


Vanishing Act

by netlagd



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netlagd/pseuds/netlagd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian Kinney is an actor with a new series filming in Atlanta.  Justin Taylor is a frustrated artist working as a graphics designer in an Atlanta Firm.  Daphne Chambers works for the Georgia Film Commission.  Daphne talks Justin into letting his home be used for location shots for Brian's new television series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a archive posting of a fic written when Gale Harold worked on a short lived television series - Vanished - post QAF in 2005.

“Please, Justin! Please!”

 

Justin stabbed the paintbrush he’d been using into the can of paint and set it on the counter. He turned from the canvas he’d been working on and looked at his best friend.

 

“Daphne...” he sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation again. “This is my family home, not a studio back lot!” 

 

Ever since she’d snagged her job with the Georgia Film Commission, not one month went by when she didn’t try to hit up Justin for use of his home for one project or another.

 

“This one’s different!”

 

Justin crossed his arms and looked at her... daring her.

 

“It is,” she protested.

 

“How? They’re going to want to come in here, change everything around, dump truckloads of dirt on the bricked drive, rip up the sod, trample the azaleas, put nails in the plaster, gouge the hardwoods, break the windows - the leaded glass windows that are over 100 years old; the leaded glass windows that are irreplaceable!” Daphne had the good grace to flinch at that one.

Justin continued. “Then hightail it back to Hollywood and leave me to negotiate a settlement with their insurance reps. Who, mind you, don’t return calls or send checks except when threatened by my lawyer.”

 

“Justin,” Daphne began. When she saw the look on his face, she tread more lightly. “Justin. This isn’t a period piece. They don’t have to change things all around. They need a nice house in town to do filming in.”

 

“Forget it!”

 

“What if I’m here every day?”

 

Justin raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“I can be.” Daphne assured him. “I can make it a stipulation of the contract. You’re not that far from the office.”

 

“Daphne, the film commission offices are on the other side of town. And your and Tom’s apartment is in Marietta. I don’t know how you are going to be able to reasonably split your time between here, the office and home.” 

 

Daphne had hoped she wouldn’t have to tell him this way, but... “Tom and I broke up.”

 

“What?! When? I thought you were talking about getting married?”

 

“So did I.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I don’t know. We had a fight. A stupid fight, over cleaning out the refrigerator. Just one of those things about why couldn’t I keep the fridge clean, why did we have science experiments growing in our tupperware and somehow it was all my fault. But that wasn’t it. It was just something to deflect the deeper problems. Long story short he’s out of town on a business trip until next week and I’m moving out this weekend.”

 

“Where are you going to go?” The argument over filming was forgotten.

 

“Well,” Daphne heaved a weary sigh. “That was one of the reasons that I said I could be here for the shooting. I was hoping that you’d let me have one of the cottages to stay in - just until I find something.”

 

“Oh, Daph. You know you’re more than welcome to stay here - as long as you like. Shit, you put up enough with me during college.” Justin smiled trying to cheer her up. He failed miserably.

 

The tenuous hold she had on her emotions crumbled and Daphne found herself wrapped in her best friend’s comforting arms. 

 

The dam burst.

 

“He doesn’t love me, Justin.” Fat, unattractive tears rolled down her cheeks and moisture leaked from her nose. “He doesn’t love me.”

 

_Shit! Straight men!_ Justin dragged Daphne to the futon and grabbed for some kleenex from the nearby side table. Tom had no fucking clue what he was losing here. 

 

“He doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him. You may not feel it now, but you’re better off without him. Besides, Atlanta’s full of hot guys!”

 

“Yeah, but they’re all gay.” Daphne sniffled and smiled at Justin. He really was her best friend. She couldn’t count on Tom, but she could always count on Justin.

 

Justin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a sideways hug. “C’mon, it will be okay. Hell, you can even use the house for your damn TV show.”

 

“Really?” Daphne looked at him through watery eyes.

 

“Really.” _Shit!_

 

“Oh, Justin! Thank you!” She kissed him. “Thanks for letting me stay here, thanks for helping me out with my job.” She stopped and looked at him seriously. “Thanks for being my best friend.”

 

“Yeah, well... if they fuck up the house, you’re dealing with the insurance reps.”  
~~~~~~

 

“Atlanta?!” Debbie all but screeched it. Her voice echoed through the diner. “You’re moving to Atlanta?”

 

“I thought you were moving to Hollywood?” Michael groused. He had had dreams of visiting his best friend in glamorous LA. Meeting famous, hot actors, going to parties. “Atlanta?”

 

“Well, it was either Atlanta or Vancouver. It seems they’re making television anywhere else but California these days.” Brian had recently landed the starring role on a new network suspense/thriller/drama series _Vanished_. 

 

After doing the initial pilot on the studio lot in LA and some location work in Atlanta the pilot had been picked up. However, the production costs in California proved to be three times the cost that they were in the sunny south, so all filming had been relocated to Georgia with even the post production being done in Atlanta. 

 

“I go where the work is.” Brian shrugged. 

 

At 36, Brian Kinney had quietly moved up the ranks from the early days of being hot hunk on a soap opera to rising star. He had worked hard, making his way through cable, made for tv movies and B-films to guest spots on network series and supporting roles in film. 

_Vanished_ was his big break - and he wasn’t about to fuck it up. If they told him go to Atlanta he’d go to Atlanta. A lead in a major network series - if it was a hit - could provide him steady work and income for several years. It would raise his profile, and bring in other lucrative deals and opportunities. During the downtime between seasons he could work in film, even in theatre. He like theatre work, but it paid for shit. Brian was not a man of meager tastes. With a steady paycheck, he could afford to indulge in such fancy as stage acting - as well as Prada and Armani.

 

“Well, at least you’ll be on the same coast.” Debbie made the best of it. “You can probably even fly directly there from here.”

 

“I do believe that there are flights daily,” Brian commented with a mocking grin. Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport had the distinction of being the world’s busiest passenger airport.

 

Michael sulked in the diner booth. “So when do you leave?”

 

“Thursday. Cynthia and I will head out and get settled. Shooting begins Monday.”

 

“Do you know how long you’ll be gone?” Ben asked, giving Michael a hug.

 

“A couple of months, at least. The shooting schedule’s not finalized.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey!”

Justin was trudging up the brick driveway to the house when Daphne waved to him. 

He looked at her. She was dressed for an evening out.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m meeting Cynthia at Underground Atlanta for dinner. Then we’re going to hit a few clubs. Want to join us?”

Justin shook his head.

“C’mon, it’s Friday night.”

Which meant waiting an hour for a table for dinner, overpriced drinks at overcrowded clubs, too much smoke and not enough air.

“Nope, not into the hetero mating ritual tonight.” 

“You’re not even into the homo mating ritual lately,” Daphne grumbled.

“Look Daph, I’m just tired. It’s been a long week. All I want to do is grab a beer, order a pizza and paint. You have a good time with Cynthia -- tell her I said _‘hi’_.” 

Justin waved to Daphne as she headed out to Piedmont Avenue and the MARTA stop.

“Take a cab home!”

“I will.” Daphne waved back.

Justin was glad, and a bit relieved, that Daphne had made fast friends with the assistant to one of the actors on a project she was shepherding for her job. The same project was due to start filming at the house next week.

Cynthia was good for Daphne. First, she was straight, so Daphne had someone to go out with and Justin wasn’t saddled with taking her to the straight clubs. Next Cynthia was a few years older -- a little bit wiser, perhaps more jaded -- than Daphne. That worked since Daphne was coming out of a serious relationship. Cynthia wasn’t looking for Mr. Right, she was looking for Mr. Right Now. And that’s what Daphne needed too. Finally, Cynthia was fun and interesting. Justin felt comfortable spending time with the two women.  
~~~~~~

“Where to next?” Cynthia asked as she and Daphne made their way out of the Island Oasis. It was still early, just past eleven o’clock.

“Oooo! Oooo! Alley Cat -- Justin hates the place!” Daphne giggled as she took a deep suck on the straw of her peach daiquiri.

Cynthia shrugged. She was thinking Red Star might be more her style. But it was early, it was Friday, and by the looks of her partner in crime for the evening, Cynthia would be switching to bottled water instead of martinis for the rest of the night anyway.

Alley Cat was loud and raucous. And raunchy. The waitresses were some nightmare cross between biker bar babes and Josie and the Pussycats. 

Daphne wasn’t overly drunk -- she was just teetering on the edge. She was... happy.

“I’m soooo glad we decided to go out tonight. Justin’s a stick in the mud these days. Never wants to explore the nightlife. Not even the gay clubs!” Daphne yelled over the loud music to Cynthia.

A couple of guys in leather came up and asked them if they wanted to dance. Cynthia was about to decline, when Daphne hopped down from her bar stool and dragged one of the guys to the dance floor. Cynthia moved to the dance floor with a bit less enthusiasm, figuring she had better watch out for her friend.  
~~~~~~

Someone was at his door. Again. Brian paced back and forth in the confines of the small apartment. If he ever found out who had posted his address on the internet he was going to kill them. He’d get off too -- justifiable homicide.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Brian pulled out his cell phone and dialed his assistant.  
~~~~~~

Three songs later, Daphne was dancing hard, but Cynthia was less inspired. She nearly jumped for joy when she felt her cell phone ring. Grabbing Daphne by the hand she pulled the younger woman along as she exited the club. Cynthia answered the phone as she crossed into Kenny’s Alley.

“Hello?” 

“Get me the fuck out of here!”

“What? Wait. Brian?”

“Cynthia, get me the fuck out of here.”

“Hold on.” She covered the mouthpiece and turned to Daphne. “Something’s wrong. Where can we go so I can hear?”

The dancing had sobered Daphne up a bit -- that and the fact that she hadn’t had anything more to drink in the past half hour. She motioned for Cynthia to follow her down Kenny’s Alley to the entrance to Underground Atlanta. People were milling around, but it was a lot quieter. A couple of security guards stood close by.

Cynthia nodded her thanks. “Okay, Brian. I can hear you now. Hey, what’s that racket?”

“That would be my adoring fans.”

“Where are you?”

“In my fucking apartment.”

“You invited a fan over?”

“No. I didn’t invite a fan over, and there is more than one. More like twenty. Some idiot posted my _**personal**_ address somewhere online today. I came home to people camped out on my doorstep. They’ve been out there all night: chanting for me to come out, screaming how much they love me, around ten they started ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door.”

Cynthia covered her mouth and tried not to let her laugh be heard through the phone. Brian was having a major queen out.

“What? What?” Daphne wanted to know what was going on.

Cynthia covered the phone’s mouthpiece and turned to Daphne. “Brian’s adoring public have him cornered in his apartment. The natives are getting restless.”

“Cynthia!” Brian shouted.

“Sorry, I was just filling Daphne in on what was going on.”

“Where are you?”

“Underground Atlanta.”

Brian closed his eyes in pain. “Whatever would possess you to go to such a tourist trap? On a Friday night no less.”

“Fun?”

“Well, I’m sorry to cut your evening short. But you have to help me out here. No one is in the production offices. I’ve tried the downtown hotels, but there’s some sort of convention in town and they’re all booked. I need a place to stay.”

“Okay, Brian. But it’s going to take me some time. I’m not from around here - and I know your standards. Can it wait until tomorrow?”

The doorbell rang and the pounding on the door resumed. “Fuck no!” Brian threw himself onto the couch. “You said you were out with Daphne. She’s from around here, right? Get her to help you.”

_**”Brian! We L-uuuu-vvv Yooooo!”** _

“Fuck! Tell her I’ll pay her!”

“Okay, I’ll ask her. Let me call you back,” Cynthia chuckled. 

“I heard that! No! Don’t hang up!” There was a click and Brian’s phone went dead. “FUCK!”

“What’s the matter?” 

Now that Brian was no longer on the phone Cynthia allowed herself a good laugh. 

“Brian. He’s having a major queen out. It seems his fans have surrounded his apartment and they won’t leave him alone. The production office is closed for the weekend and downtown hotels are booked. Knowing Brian, he only checked the ones with four stars or more. He needs to be rescued and a place to stay -- in that order.”

“He can stay at the house.” Daphne offered.

Cynthia looked at her companion. “You don’t think Justin will have something to say about that?”

“Look, there’s my cottage. The other cottage is empty since Bob left last month. And the house has like six bedrooms and five bathrooms. There’s plenty of room. Besides, it’s only for the weekend, right? Monday the production offices will be open and they’ll relocate him somewhere safe from his rabid fans.”

Cynthia shrugged. It was better than having to share her modest double bed with Brian. Besides, his feet would hang off the edge. Plus, she wouldn’t have to deal with him queening out on her all weekend. She smiled. Yes! This was a plan. She hit his speed dial on her phone.

“What!?”

“Hold on tight, the cavalry is coming. We’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

They took a cab to Brian’s apartment. Cynthia had a spare set of keys to his rental car so she retrieved it from the parking lot. She called ahead to have the police to disperse the crowd. By the time she and Daphne pulled around to the front of the building there was a clear route from Brian’s apartment to the car.

Brian ran out of the apartment, Louis Vuitton keepall and garment bag in tow.

“Thanks,” he huffed out as he shut and locked the passenger door. Only once he was safely in the car did he notice that the majority of the fans had left. Some were still milling around with signs on the opposite side of the drive. “How’d you get rid of them?”

“I called the cops. Really Brian, I don’t know why you didn’t try that yourself.”

“I did. At seven and nine. By the time I called at ten-thirty, they told me that it would be a while -- they had real crime they had to deal with.” He grimaced. “They’ll be back.”

Cynthia drove out of the lot and looked into the review mirror. “Which way?” 

Brian turned around. “Hey Daphne! I didn’t see you back there.” He smiled, the first genuine smile of the evening.

“Hey Mr. Kinney...”

“Brian.”

“Brian.” Daphne smiled back at him. “Hey Cynthia, take a left up here and follow the signs to get onto I-85. Head for downtown. You’re going to take the exit for Georgia Tech. I’ll give you specifics when we get closer. Here, Brian, let me take those, I can put them on the back seat.”

“Thanks.” Brian handed his luggage over to Daphne.

Cynthia put the car in drive and headed for the highway.   
~~~~~~  
“Okay, take the next exit. When you get to North Avenue take a left, then once you’ve gone under the interstate, take another left onto Piedmont Avenue.”

“Where the fuck are we? We passed downtown. I don’t see any hotels.”

“Daphne has graciously offered to put up with you - uh, I mean put you up -- for the weekend.”

Brian turned and stared at Cynthia. Oh, she was going to get hers. He liked Daphne, in a ‘hi, how are you’ way, but he would rather be stuck in his apartment with screaming fans than stuffed into some post-college starter apartment. “That’s very kind of you Daphne, but...” Brian began.

“Okay,” Daphne interrupted him leaning forward and in closer to Cynthia. “You’re going to want to slow down and get in the right hand lane. Up here on the right. See the gate? Pull over, I’ll have to open it.”

Cynthia pulled over and Daphne jumped out to enter the access code into the electronic keypad. When the gate started to open, she got back into the car.

“All right, you can go in now. Don’t worry, it will close automatically behind you. Pull up and around the house. We’ll go in through the kitchen.” She turned to Brian. “Sorry for interrupting, you were saying?”

Brian took it all in. A gate! The house had a fucking gate! And the house... it was beautiful -- probably late 19th century. Not exactly his taste, but he could appreciate the architecture and historic nature of the place. This was _not_ some post-college economy apartment. He could suffer through a weekend here. “Nothing, never mind.” 

Cynthia parked the car; motion-sensitive lights flooded the small brick parking circle. 

As everyone exited the car, Brian reached in for his bags. “This is nice -- yours?”

“I wish!” Daphne laughed. “No, my best friend’s. He inherited it from his great-grandmother. I live out back in one of the cottages. But we’re putting you up in the big house. It’s huge! There’re like six bedrooms, and he lives alone. You won’t even know you’re both in the same house.”

“And he knows I’m coming?” Brian ventured cautiously.

“Sort of. I couldn’t get him on his cell so I left him a voice mail telling him we’d have company this weekend.” She’d kind of implied that it was male company for her, but she didn’t think Justin would mind if she brought home some hot TV star that was more his type. Maybe it would shake him up a little, get him out of his solitary funk. “He’ll be okay with it.” She removed her key from her purse, opened the kitchen door and disabled the alarm.

Brian and Cynthia followed Daphne into the house. Since they were in the kitchen, she offered them something to drink. She was dehydrated from drinking and dancing so she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge. Brian and Cynthia joined her. They were sitting around the kitchen table talking quietly when Justin came in dressed in a T-shirt and boxers. His hair stuck out every which way and it was evident that he’d just come from bed.

“Daph?” he yawned, blinking and rubbing his eyes in bright light of the kitchen, as he entered the room. “What’s going on?” He looked at the group assembled at the table. It couldn’t be. He could hardly breathe the name. “Brian?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Justin.” Brian stood, but couldn’t move.

The room was silent. Everyone and everything faded away as the two men stared at one another.

“You two know each other?” Cynthia’s words broke the spell.

“It was a long time ago.” “It’s been seven years, nearly eight.” Brian and Justin responded at the same time.

Brian continued to stare at Justin, making him uncomfortable. Self-consciously he looked down. “I’m going to grab my jeans.” 

Once back in his room Justin retrieved his jeans from the chair where he’d tossed them before going to bed. 

“Fuck!” _What the hell was Brian Kinney doing in his house?_ He knew he’d have to go back out there. He knew he’d have to. He couldn’t hide in here as much as he’d like to. _Shit!_

He should have made the connection. But Daphne had only mentioned Cynthia’s boss’s name a couple of times. Brian wasn’t that unusual a name. But did she ever mention Brian’s last name? 

Justin had written it off as a coincidence. He’d refused to acknowledge that Cynthia’s Brian would be _his_ Brian Kinney. Not that he was ever Justin’s to begin with. But in some way he was. How many people forget their first time? Wasn’t that what he’d said on that night seven years ago?

_”I want you to always remember this... so that no matter who you’re ever with, I’ll always be there.”_

And fuck, hadn’t Justin spent the last seven years of his life comparing every lover, every trick, everyone he’d ever fucked to Brian? Justin covered his face with his hands. He had to go back out there.

_*knock, knock*_ Daphne opened the door only enough to slip in.

“Justin?”

Justin rubbed his eyes and looked over at Daphne.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Justin rubbed his tongue around his teeth. He pressed his lips together and he gave only the smallest of nods.

“I’d forgotten his name.”

“I hadn’t.”

Daphne bit her lip.

“What’s he doing here, Daph? What’s Brian Kinney doing in my house at fucking one o’clock in the morning?”

Daphne looked at her feet. Then slowly raised her eyes to Justin’s. “I told him he could stay here.”

“What?! What do you mean _‘stay here’_ ?”

“Oh Justin, I didn’t know! He called Cynthia when we were out earlier tonight. Some idiot posted his apartment address here in Atlanta on the internet. He’s had fans camped out at his apartment all night. He couldn’t leave. They were really loud -- knocking on his door, ringing his doorbell, chanting stuff. He had to escape.”

“So... what? You brought him here? Why the fuck didn’t he just check himself into a hotel? They’ve got security.”

“All the hotels in downtown are booked -- some sort of major convention in town.”

“Daphne, we are in Atlanta, not some backwater town that only has one hotel. I’m sure that there are plenty of hotels with vacancies.”

“He’s not from around here, Cynthia’s not from around here. He asked for me to help out. Honestly, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. We’ve both had friends crash here -- last minute -- for the weekend before.”

“Brian Kinney’s not your friend! Cynthia’s your friend.”

“I thought it might be good for you.” Daphne mumbled.

“What was that?” Justin was sure he couldn’t be hearing correctly.

“Nothing.”

“No. You said you thought it might be good for me. So now I need you to go out and pick up tricks for me?”

“NO! Oh Justin, it wasn’t like that. It was late... I was still a bit drunk... I didn’t feel like trolling around downtown to find a hotel that had a vacancy. Not when I knew that there were like five empty bedrooms here.” Her shoulders drooped dejectedly. “It’s just that... well, he’s gorgeous. I didn’t see the problem with having a little eye candy around for the weekend. I mean, he’s famous, a TV star and all.”

Justin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the grin that stole across his lips. “Oh, and it’s like you never see anyone famous. I mean, working at the Georgia -- fucking -- Film Commission and all?”

“Well...,” Daphne smiled at him. “They’re not usually so hot.”

Justin sighed, but smiled. “C’mon, let’s get this over with. He can hide out here for the weekend. It’s not like he’s going to jump my bones or anything. He was pretty clear about that seven years ago. His performance was for one night only.”  
~~~~~~

While Daphne went to check on Justin, Brian had called a cab for Cynthia. He would have given her the car, but they couldn’t figure out how to reopen the gate without the code. 

Lighting low to the ground lit up the landscaping and motion-sensitive floodlights dotted circles of light here and there as Brian walked Cynthia down to the street and waited with her for the taxi to arrive. He took his time walking back to the house.

Justin... Taylor. 

Justin. The name had played in his mind for the past seven years. There was now a last name to go with the first. Brian was the one who had told Justin that he could see him in his dreams when it was actually the exact opposite. Every time Gus had a birthday, the memory of the blond young man with the cerulean blue eyes came back to haunt him.

After their night together, Justin had returned looking for more. However Brian, in his inimitable way, had made it clear that he didn’t do repeats. Only the joke was on him, because ironically, that night with Justin that would repeat in his brain -- over and over again. 

After Gus’s birth, Brian had stayed in Pittsburgh for a few weeks. He had searched for clues to Justin’s identity. But it was like the young man had fallen off the face of the earth. Justin had pulled some vanishing act.

For years, every time he blew into town he’d find himself searching the faces of those he’d encountered for the young man who had been so full of wonder and amazement. Every time he’d return to Babylon or Woody’s he’d find himself looking across Liberty Avenue to the street lamp where they’d met that night. 

Brian built up the fantasy in his head to epic proportions. A couple of years ago he thought he had finally written it off as something so implausible that it had to be some ridiculously romantic notion, too lesbionic to be real.

And now? _Fuck!_

He was here, in Justin -- fucking -- Taylor’s house. Part of him just wanted to throw his bags back in the car and take off.

_No. Fucking. Way._ He was here; and unless Justin threw him out, he was going to stay. He was going to face down his fantasies -- or demons -- or whatever. He was going to get some closure... and move on.

Brian sat at the table trying to figure out what to do next. Hell! He was an actor. He’d set the scene, play the part. How hard could it be?

“Hey.” The greeting sounded flat and monotone as Justin made Brian aware of his presence.

Daphne stood next to Justin. Looking from one man to the other as the silence made her more and more uncomfortable.

“Uh, okay, well... I guess I’ll just be going... to bed... now.” She pecked Justin on the cheek.

“Coward.”

She smiled, “Absolutely. See you in the morning.” She waved goodbye as she exited through the kitchen. 

Once outside she walked quickly to her cottage and shut the door. She was such a wimp. Part of her wanted to stay -- support Justin, see what would transpire. She shook her head. It was safer here. Besides, she’d wheedle it out of him in the morning.

“She afraid of something?”

Justin shrugged. “Probably.”

“This okay with you? Me, staying here and all?”

Justin gave another shrug. “You’ve got to sleep somewhere. Two o’clock in the morning’s a lousy time to be looking for a hotel room. C’mon, I’ll show you to a room.”

“Justin.” Brian reached out a hand. Warmth flared where Brian touched his arm.

“Brian,” he replied, trying to stop his voice from cracking. He wasn’t doing that good a job of it. He cleared his throat. “It’s late. Can’t it wait until morning?”

Brian smiled. “Sure.” _Hadn’t it waited seven years? What was another seven hours?_


	4. Chapter 4

The sun streamed in his window heralding the new day. _Fucking Atlanta! Fucking sunny south! Fucking Brian Kinney!_ Justin rolled over and buried his head under his pillow. Maybe if he just stayed in his room all day...

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

Daphne! She brought him here; she could get rid of him.

 

“C’mon in Daphne.”

 

Brian stepped through the door; two mugs of what smelled like coffee were in his hands. He shut the door behind him.

 

Still a bit sleepy, Justin rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows. “I thought you were Daphne.” 

 

“Evidently not.”

“We usually have breakfast together on the weekend.” He prayed that Brian would ignore the morning wood he was sporting. He shifted and tried to nonchalantly move the sheets to make things less noticeable.

 

Brian handed Justin one of the mugs and looked around the room. There was a chair, but it was piled with clothes. He sat on the bed next to Justin.

 

Justin took a sip of his coffee and eyed Brian suspiciously. “What are you doing here Brian?”

 

Brian took a drink from his own mug before answering. “Here? Where exactly? Atlanta, your house, your room, your bed?”

 

“Any... all.” He nudged Brian’s ass with his foot, trying to push him off the bed. “Sit someplace else.” Preferably on the other side of the door.

 

Brian wiggled his butt and planted himself more securely on the bed -- he had no plans of moving off the bed. “Can’t. Your shit’s on the chair. As to why I’m here? I’m in Atlanta for work. I’m at your house because my apartment is surrounded by screaming women -- someday someone will have to explain to me how an openly gay and out actor comes to have a fan base of straight teen-aged girls and women over forty.”

 

Justin chucked at Brian’s queening out. “I have no idea. You’re just lucky I’d guess.”

 

“As to why I’m in your room, I figured that I’d bring you a cup of coffee and maybe entice you to break your self-imposed exile.”

 

“I’ll get up in a little while. I’m just taking it easy on a Saturday morning.”

 

“Justin, it’s two o’clock.”

 

Justin’s eyes flew to the bedside alarm clock, then back to Brian. Brian smiled at him. Justin started to say ‘sorry’, but it was his house. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted. And if he wanted to spend the day in bed, then he would. He’d like to spend the day in bed with Brian; his cock hardened further at that thought. Justin looked down to make sure the sheets weren’t tenting. They were. He looked at Brian, who was watching him. He could feel his cheeks pinken.

 

Brian gave him a sly smile. “Need help with that?”

 

Justin set his mug down on the bedside table and bent his knees to his chest. Looping his arms around his legs, he eyed Brian cautiously. “I’m fine. Maybe you can leave now.”

 

Brian stood up. “Okay, Sunshine.” The boy looked anything but sunny. “I’ll leave you to your daily rituals.” Which Brian was sure would include jerking off. “I think I’ll take a walk around the grounds. Maybe read the rest of the paper. Don’t suppose you’d like to do something with me this weekend?” Brian could think of a few things he’d like to do with Justin, but he’d settle for just spending some time with the man. 

“I’d planned to spend the weekend at home.” Alone. Painting. “Besides, don’t you need to find some place to stay?”

 

Brian had no intention of taking _that_ hint. “The production offices and Cynthia will do that on Monday. Until then, I’m all yours.”

 

Justin frowned. He changed tactics. “I need to get up, take a shower.”

 

Remembering the day seven years ago when they’d shared a shower, Brian gave Justin a seductive grin. “I’d be happy to lend assistance -- you know, scrub your back.” He reached out and slowly started tugging the sheets toward the end of the bed where he stood. 

 

Justin grabbed the sheets and pulled back hard. “Thanks much for the offer,” his tone negating the sentiment. “I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

 

“You sure? Some of those out of the way places can be hard to reach. If you find you need any help... just whistle.” Brian moved around the bed to where Justin was scrunched up against the headboard. Brian leaned in, his breath moist as he whispered in Justin’s ear. “ _’You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together, and blow.’_ ” Brian ran his tongue around the edge of Justin’s ear and bit lightly. 

Justin whimpered. It told Brian just what he wanted to know. He quickly palmed the back of Justin’s head as he stole Justin’s breath in a devouring kiss. Justin had wanted this, had dreamed all night about this. Hell, he’d dreamed seven years about this.

 

As Brian pulled back, he watched Justin’s eyes droop in an erotic, passion-filled haze. Brian straightened. “Enjoy your shower,” he threw over his shoulder as he left the room, whistling.  
~~~~~

 

_Fucking Brian Kinney!_ Justin was in the shower hell-bent on scrubbing himself raw as his mind wandered to what had just transpired. _Goddamned tease!_

 

He rinsed his body and turned off the shower with an overly hard twist. Shaking the water from his hair he grabbed a towel. Clearly agitated, he vigorously rubbed himself dry.

 

It looked like he was stuck with Brian for the weekend. And it looked like Brian was intent on tormenting him the entire time. “Well, two can play at that game,” he muttered as he pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and grabbed a pair of cargo pants he used when he painted. He thrust his arms through the sleeves of an old, too-tight tee and dragged it over his head.

 

Brian Kinney had better watch out. Justin had plans to make the weekend equally miserable for both of them.  
~~~~~~

 

Justin found Brian on the screened porch. He was reading the paper. His coffee had been replaced by a bottled water.

 

“Hope you don’t mind.” He indicated the water. “Daphne told me to make myself at home.”

 

_Thanks, Daph!_ Daphne was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Uh, where is Daphne?”

 

“She said something about shopping. She insisted on leaving her cell phone here for me to use. Which was kind of her, but I had mine. She said something about if my battery died.”

 

Daphne had escaped, making sure that Justin couldn’t reach her. She was next on Justin’s list after Brian.

 

Justin gave Brian a fake smile. “I guess I’ll see her later. Have you had any lunch?”

 

Brian shook his head. “I figured I’d wait for you to come out of hiding...”

 

“I wasn’t hiding.”

 

Brian gave him a knowing look. “Sure you weren’t, Sunshine.”

 

“God-dammit Brian!”

 

Brian’s face turned innocent. “Have I done something to upset you, Sunshine?”

 

“Cut it out. Why do you keep calling me Sunshine?”

 

“Don’t know, must be your sunny disposition.”

 

Justin opened his mouth, but thought better of it. Brian made his living dealing in words. Justin decided that he’d hang Brian in effigy later; he smiled as he planned the sketch in his head. 

 

“I’m going to get something to eat.” He turned and headed to the kitchen.

 

Brian folded his paper. Daphne had made a bit of a production about letting him know that she’d be gone for the rest of the day. He was pretty sure that she’d be hanging out with Cynthia. He got up and headed toward the kitchen. He had plans for the boy this afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

Brian sauntered into the kitchen. Justin was stomping around, slamming cupboard doors. Brian had to bite his cheek not to laugh. Well, some things hadn’t changed in the past seven years. Justin still hadn’t figured out how to hide his emotions.

“Hey honey! What’s for lunch?”

Justin glared at Brian.

Brian enjoyed needling Justin, but it hadn’t been his intention to alienate the man. “Truce! Truce!” He held up his hands. “Is it really so bad having me here? It’s only for the weekend.”

“I had plans.”

“So go out. I’m a big boy; I can entertain myself.”

“My plans were to stay home. Alone. I had planned on painting.”

“Well, there you go. I can help out. I spent summers during college painting houses.”

Justin laughed. 

“No, really.”

An idea began to formulate in Justin’s mind. It might just work. 

“...of course I don’t really have the right clothes for painting...” Brian was saying.

Justin looked him over, taking in the Gucci loafers, the Armani jeans, and the black button up shirt that he was sure was silk. “Don’t worry about it. I have something that can cover you up.”

Justin went back to making his sandwich. Grudgingly, he made one for Brian as well -- justifying his actions by the fact that Brian didn’t know his way around the kitchen. 

Brian retrieved another bottled water from the fridge and pulled out a soda for Justin as well. He grabbed a handful of paper towels from a roll on the counter and made makeshift settings at the small kitchen table. Not knowing what else he could do to be helpful, he sat at the table and watched as Justin prepared lunch. Justin joined him shortly thereafter, placing a turkey sandwich in front of him.

“My favorite,” Brian said, a bit tongue in cheek.

“You don’t like turkey?” Justin half rose. “I suppose I can find something else for you.”

Brian grabbed Justin’s wrist. “The turkey’s fine. Sit down. You don’t need to wait on me.”

Justin returned to his chair. He picked up his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. The two men ate in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.  
...

Sitting in the quiet was getting to Justin. “So, you’re an actor?”

“Yeah -- you didn’t know?”

Justin shrugged. “I don’t have a TV. If I feel like it, I visit a friend. Of course with Daphne living here now I just go over to her cottage.”

“No TV? What do you do if you want to watch a movie?”

Justin smiled. “I have an Apple thirty-inch high-definition flat-panel display. I just plug in my laptop and the stereo.”

“I can see that life is hard on you.” 

“Well, there are _some_ things you can’t live without.”  
~~~~~~  
Justin led Brian through his bedroom to the glass-enclosed porch which he used as a studio. Brian hadn’t noticed the room earlier when he’d visited Justin and brought him the coffee. 

Justin went to retrieve a few items. Returning, he handed Brian a bed sheet and a piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“The sheet is to drape you and the paper is a standard model’s release and consent form. I had planned to work on something abstract, but when you offered to help out... Well, I usually can’t afford a model... and I could use some life-study practice...”

Justin crossed the room and started to make himself busy. He unfolded the futon couch so it opened into a bed. He spread a matching sheet across the bed and moved some pillows around. Retrieving his easel and stool, he began to set up.

Brian stared at him. _Whatthefuck?_ He looked down at the paper in his hands and scanned the first few lines. _Wait a second!_ He had no intention of modeling for Justin. _And I bet that’s just what he’s counting on._ A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“You know, now that I’m a fairly well-known actor, it wouldn’t do for there to be pictures...”

“I was planning on painting... maybe some preliminary sketches... Although, now that you mention it, it would be a smart idea to get some photos of you so I can work from the images after you’re gone. I’ll go grab my digital camera.” Justin started to move but Brian’s next words stopped him.

“No. No photographs. And I stand corrected... it wouldn’t do for there to be questionable sketches or paintings circulating.”

“Oh well,” Justin shrugged with a half smile. “I guess I’ll just have to find something else to work on. You’re welcome to go back to the porch and read.”

“Oh I couldn’t do that. After all, you’ve been kind enough to put me up this weekend. And, you said that you _need_ the practice. I’ll make you a deal. You sketch -- paint, whatever -- after I’ve had a chance to view your work, if I think it’s okay, I’ll sign the release form. That way, you still get the practice, and I can still retain control over my image.” Brian began to strip. “Now where do you want me?”

Justin had to instruct his jaw to shut. He thought he’d be well rid of Brian by now. _Fuck!_ This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I suppose you want me on the futon.”

Justin looked up. Brian was naked. He had placed a neatly folded pile of clothes next to the futon and was shaking out the sheet Justin had given him, spreading it across the bed. 

Justin watched the play of muscles along Brian’s ass as he snapped the sheet open and leaned over to spread it across the futon. Involuntarily, he licked his lips.

Totally comfortable in his nudity, Brian lay on the bed. He adjusted the sheet along his back and legs, but made no move to cover himself.

_Damn! He’s hot._ Justin swallowed and retreated behind his easel. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Well, at least he can’t see me here._

Brian looked over at the easel. It covered most of the blond’s body, but left him an unrestricted view of Justin’s crotch. Brian could see Justin’s dick straining against the fabric of his cargo pants. He smiled. _This was a great plan!_

_This was a stupid plan!_ Justin reached down to adjust himself. _Why did he ever think that Brian wouldn’t call his bluff?_

“Do you need to position me?” Brian asked, daring Justin to come over and touch him.

“Uh... no... No, you are... uh, fine just as you are.”

“Oh... okay... well, you’ll tell me if you need something... right?”

_Oh I need something, all right._ Justin gave his head a shake and set about making some preliminary sketches. May as well not waste the subject.  
~~~~~~  
Justin was rubbing his wrist. He glanced at the clock on the side counter. Almost six o’clock. They’d been at this for nearly three hours. In all that time, Brian hadn’t said a word. At PIFA the models used to complain if they didn’t get breaks regularly. 

Justin looked over at Brian -- he was asleep! No wonder he wasn’t complaining. Justin hadn’t noticed him nodding off. He’d been too intent on what he’d been working on. That, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Brian’s face too closely. He was afraid of being caught in those hazel eyes.

“Brian, I’m done,” Justin called across the room.

Brian moved in his sleep but didn’t answer. Justin could see Brian shifting around -- his arms, his legs. Those weren’t the only things shifting either. Brian’s cock was getting harder, pushing upward. Behind his eyelids, rapid movement indicated Brian was in a deep sleep. Justin crept closer. 

With Brian asleep, Justin could take his time studying his subject. Behind the easel he was detached. Artist and model -- both professionals. But closer, he was a man. 

It had been seven years, but Brian was as lean and hard as he had been the night that they’d met. Justin remembered every limb, every line of that body. Still the same -- strong muscles defined, but not bulky. Skin kissed with a light tan -- all over. Brian moved, thrusting his hips upward, his hardness all the more pronounced. 

Justin flushed and felt his cock twitch in response. He longed to reach out, run a hand along the taut stomach, stroke the hair that he remembered to be soft, yet coarse. A bubble of liquid slowly trickled from the slit of Brian’s penis making a glistening path from the head to the root.

Justin’s tongue darted out and wet his lips. He should leave. He looked toward the door, then back to Brian. He knelt on the futon and reached out to shake the sleeping man’s shoulder.

“Brian.” 

The older man’s eyes continued their rapid movement behind closed lids. Justin shook Brian’s shoulder again.

“Brian.”

In his sleep, Brian’s hand snaked up to capture Justin’s wrist. Justin felt a slight tug and found himself lying on the futon next to Brian. With a lithe movement, Brian flipped Justin onto his back and covered the blond man’s body.

Pinned to the bed, mouth opened in surprise, Justin had no immediate response. He heard Brian murmur his name before Brian’s lips came crashing down on his own.

The dream was back. Brian hadn’t had this one in a long time. He and Justin were on the bed, naked. Brian’s tongue explored the warm cavern that was Justin’s mouth. Justin’s whimpers and mewls urged him on. He ground his hips down into Justin, rubbing their cocks together. 

_No, that wasn’t right -- he felt fabric. The dream was always the same, Justin was always nude._ Brian closed his eyes tightly and willed the dream to return.

_Ah there it was, Justin’s mouth so pliant, so willing. Justin’s tongue explored Brian’s mouth, mating with Brian’s._ Brian relaxed into the kiss. He didn’t remember the dream ever being this good. He reached his hand out to caress Justin’s body. _Fabric -- it had to go._

As they continued kissing, Brian made short work of the tee-shirt. He pulled the shirt up and over Justin’s head interrupting, only momentarily, the lips that he had captured. Once the tee-shirt was gone, Brian’s hands roved the smooth and supple planes of Justin’s chest. He could _feel_ the muscles play underneath the skin. The dream was much better than before. 

He slid his hands down to Justin’s hips -- _and encountered... fabric._ The pants would have to go next. Brian shoved the material down along Justin’s thighs, pushing it down to his feet. Justin kicked the material free and Brian smiled as he felt Justin’s cock against his. _Ahhhh, that was better... just like he remembered..._ In slow, sensuous circles, he rubbed his body against the younger man’s. Their hard cocks rutted against one another. Brian could feel the wetness of pre-cum. 

Brian froze momentarily. He opened his eyes -- this wasn’t a dream. 

Justin pulled at Brian’s hair, clutched at Brian’s arm and lifted his lips back to Brian’s. His tongue slicked the outline of Brian’s lips before delving deeper in the older man’s mouth. Brian shuddered in response.

“Need you... need you now... need you inside me...”

Brian wasn’t sure exactly how Justin came to be there beside him, underneath him, but he wanted him. He wasn’t going to stop and ask questions. This is what he’d built up in his mind; he was going to get some answers, and they weren’t going to be verbal. Reaching out to the pile of folded clothes, he retrieved the ever-present condom and lube from his pocket. He quickly coated his fingers rubbing the viscous liquid between the pads, then sliding them down between his body and Justin’s.

Brian’s stroked the sensitive tip of Justin’s cock, the pearly liquid there mixing with lube on already slicked fingers. Justin moaned and pressed into Brian’s hand. Brian quickly followed the shaft down to the root, and further... He slid between the folds and buried two fingers knuckle deep.

“Brian!” Justin’s eyes flew open and he found himself staring into the depths of Brian’s hazel orbs. 

Brian’s gaze held Justin’s; with his fingers he began a rhythm in and out. Sensitive to any discomfort the younger man might feel, Brian watched closely as he intensified each movement.

Justin’s blue eyes deepened in color to nearly black as Brian’s fingers pushed deeper and he felt the contraction of the inner muscles. Justin’s mouth was slightly open and his breath came in short pants. Brian leaned in, eyes still open, daring Justin to change his mind. He stole the younger man’s breath in an open-mouthed kiss. Lips collided and tongues licked against each other in heat. Justin was lost to the sensations that overwhelmed him.

Brian slowly removed his fingers; Justin cried out in disappointment. Brian quickly sheathed up, positioning his latex and lube covered cock at Justin’s entrance, and pushed inside. 

Even though Brian had prepared him, Justin couldn’t help the intake of breath. The short burn gave way to pleasure as Brian moved in inch by inch, until he was buried balls deep. Justin sighed contentedly at the fullness he felt.

Brian waited for Justin to adjust, to indicate he was ready for more. A bump of the hip set Brian to begin a slow in and out thrust. Justin’s legs wound around Brian’s waist to push Brian deeper, hold Brian tighter.

Brian thrust harder, plunged downward, only to pull back and nearly out. 

Justin crossed his ankles behind Brian’s hips and contracted the muscles of his legs -- now that he had him he wouldn’t allow Brian to escape. 

Brian dipped down to kiss Justin. Justin returned it with full force. Their tongues mimicked the mating of their hips. Brian drove deeper within Justin, grazing along the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Ahhhhh!”

Brian smiled knowing Justin’s satisfaction came from him. He reached between his and Justin’s body to stroke the younger man’s shaft. Already slick and slippery from the leaking pre-cum, Brian’s hand smoothly ran back and forth along the velvet steel.

“Close... so close...” Justin whimpered.

“Come for me.”

The command was all he needed; Justin’s hips bucked up as strings of white liquid shot between the two men. Justin rode the aftershocks of his orgasm, his entire body clenching and releasing. 

As the muscles that surrounded Brian tightened along his sensitive shaft, he could feel himself being pushed over the edge. Crying Justin’s name, he came -- hard -- filling the condom. The arms with which he held himself above Justin’s body gave way and he collapsed onto the younger man. Fearing that he might crush his partner Brian made to move, but Justin brought his arms up to encircle Brian’s shoulders and tightened his legs around the older man’s hips.

“No... stay...” He wanted to hold onto this memory. He wanted to hold onto Brian.

Unable to fight, Brian allowed himself to succumb to the post-coital lethargy. Limp and exhausted, pausing only to extract himself and dispose of the condom, he buried his face in Justin’s neck and slept.

In the peaceful quiet that followed the storm Justin’s fears began to surface. He was horrified at what he’d allowed to happen. Yet he couldn’t regret it. He felt more alive than he had in months, perhaps years. He reveled in the weight of Brian that encompassed him. _Only a few more minutes... then I’ll get up._ He closed his eyes to savor the warmth and closeness... and was asleep.  
~~~~~~  
Justin was disoriented as he shifted from sleep to consciousness. There was a huge weight holding his entire body down. He struggled against it to no avail.

Brian moaned, and Justin went rigid. The memory of what had so recently happened came flying back. Justin could feel a flush cover his face and creep down his neck. How could he have allowed this to happen? In his own home? Justin shoved at Brian, who rolled over, reducing the weight on Justin to just that of an arm and a leg. Justin pushed and kicked to free himself from the last of Brian’s limbs. 

Once clear, Justin made to move from the makeshift mattress, but Brian’s hand grabbed his wrist and pulled Justin’s body closer to his own. Spooning along Justin’s backside, Brian kissed the back of Justin’s neck and murmured, “Don’t go.”

“Brian, let me up!”

“No, not done yet.” Sleepily, Brian began to trail kisses down Justin’s spine, while his hand glided down Justin’s torso to capture the younger man’s cock.

Justin moaned as he felt himself harden in Brian’s capable hand. He struggled, knowing his body had turned traitor on him. Brian had kissed his way over to Justin’s shoulder. As Justin opened his mouth to protest, Brian thrust his tongue inside, effectively cutting off any further discussion.

Brian’s assault continued, silencing any objection Justin might raise. Once Justin was quieted, Brian moved his mouth to replace his hand. Justin could do no more than lay back in supplication as his body betrayed his mind.

~~~~~~  
_I’ve got to get up. I’ve got to get out of this bed. I’ve got to escape before I’m lost again._ After an amazing blowjob, Brian had once again fucked Justin in an equally mind-shattering experience. This time when he moved to leave the bed, Brian was too exhausted to protest much.

“Where are you going?” Brian reached out a hand to hold Justin’s.

“To shower. I’m all sticky...” with sweat, with cum, with Brian.

“Okay.” He dropped Justin’s hand and leaned back on the mattress, watching the younger man retreat through the door to his bedroom.

Brian reached for his jeans to retrieve his cigarettes. Lighting one up, he pulled the smoke deep into his lungs and pondered what had transpired. One thing was for sure, what he had built up in his mind paled in comparison to reality. Justin was everything he’d remembered and more. And sure, Justin was no longer the callow youth of seven years ago, but what Brian had encountered with this grown up Justin was more than the normal experience that seven years would bear. There was something about Justin... about the two of them together. Brian would have to figure this out.  


The air conditioning kicked on and the blow of cold air caused gooseflesh to rise on Brian’s arms. He’d have to move or cover up. He looked for a place to put out his cigarette, finding no such place, he flipped over his loafer and stubbed the butt out on the heel of the shoe. Gathering the ashes and butt together, he folded them into a tissue and threw it and the used condoms in the wastebasket on the opposite side of the room.  


Dusting his hands free of residue, he headed back to the futon to gather his clothes when the sight of what was on the easel distracted him. The sketch was magnificent. Brian had enough ego to be confident in the subject matter, but beyond the physical beauty, the expertise of what had been drawn there was staggering. Justin was a true artist.

Grabbing his jeans, he pulled his cell phone from the back pocket. Flipping it open he hit Cynthia’s speed dial. 

“Cynthia.”

“Daphne there with you?” Brian was curt, bypassing any small talk.

“Why Brian, hello to you too and how nice of you to ask, I’m fine,” Cynthia retorted sarcastically.

“Cut the wounded party act. Is Daphne there?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Listen Ethel, I want you and Lucy to put your heads together. I don’t care how you do it, but come Monday I want to be installed here for the rest of the shoot.”

“But... Brian... how...?” Cynthia sputtered.

“I don’t care how you two do it,” he repeated. “Just make it happen.” Before Cynthia had a chance to respond, he folded his cell phone closed, ending the call.

Gathering up his clothes, Brian headed out. As he entered Justin’s bedroom, he could hear the shower running. He looked at the door that led to the hallway and his bedroom, then back to the door where the shower could be heard. It was a no-brainer. Brian dropped his clothes on Justin’s bed -- he could use a shower, too...


	6. Chapter 6

“Asshole!” Cynthia threw her cell phone across the room. It landed on the couch with a dull thud. 

“That would be... Brian?” Daphne asked.

“Who else?” Cynthia crossed the room to retrieve her phone. Picking it up, she heaved a great sigh and flopped on the couch. She sat there snapping her phone open and shut.

“So should I ask how things are going back at the house?”

“Something’s going on, but damned if I know. Brian just called to inform me that you and I were to get together and figure out how he could stay there for the rest of the shooting schedule.”

“What?!”

“His exact words were ‘I don’t care how you two do it... just make it happen’. Like I have any say in the matter.”  
“Justin must be having a cow.”

“I don’t think Justin knows.”

“Okay, Justin _will_ have a cow.”

“Daphne, how much do you know about how Brian and Justin know each other?”

“I don’t know from the Brian side, but I certainly know everything from the Justin side of things.”

“Seven years... they did say seven years didn’t they?”

“Yeah, Justin was seventeen.”

“That would have made Brian twenty-nine.”

“Were you working for him then?”

“No, I was working for the agency that had signed him. It wasn’t until the last couple of years that Brian has really had the level of recognition -- and pay -- that he could afford to hire me full time. Justin was pretty young -- how did they meet?”

“Justin had decided to go down to Liberty Avenue -- that’s the gay section of Pittsburgh.”

“I’m from Pittsburgh, remember? I know where you’re talking about.”

“Oh, right... Well, he met Brian on Liberty Avenue. Brian ended up taking Justin home... to Brian’s home... uh loft, I think... Anyway, he was Justin’s first.”

“First what?” The words were out of Cynthia’s mouth before her brain kicked in. “Oh... oh! You mean like...”

“Yeah, his first.”

“Shit! Well, that explains Justin’s deer in the headlights pose. He probably didn’t think he’d ever see Brian again. Brian’s known for kicking his tricks out before the sweat cools on the sheets...” Cynthia looked over at Daphne. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sure Justin was -- as he is now -- a nice kid. But Brian’s not known for his hospitality when it comes to... uh... fucking.”

“Well, he didn’t entirely kick him out of the bed that soon. Or at least not that night -- he gave Justin a ride to school the next morning.”

Cynthia raised her eyebrows at that. _That_ wasn’t something that Brian would normally do.

“I remember Justin walking up the steps at St. James. He had this huge smile on his face. He told me that he’d just seen the face of God, and that his name was Brian Kinney. I didn’t remember his name -- before last night. I knew that Brian sounded familiar, but I just wrote it off to the fact that he was an actor and I had heard his name before or seen him in something.”

“It sounds like he really made an impact on Justin. No wonder Justin was surprised to see him after all these years -- never seeing the guy who took your virginity and then there he is, in your house.”

“Oh Justin saw him again.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, the next night. I let him use my car to drive back to Brian’s...”

“But...” Cynthia’s brows knitted together. “...but... Brian doesn’t do repeats.”

“Yeah, Justin found that out... the hard way. Brian had another trick at the apartment... uh, I mean loft. Justin arrived at the loft just as Brian’s trick du jour was arriving. Brian let Justin know, in no uncertain terms, that he was yesterday’s news. He was really hurt.”

Cynthia nodded. “I bet.”

“...I mean, Justin thought that they’d really shared something special. After all, Brian let Justin name his kid and everything. He was really devastated to find out that he was ‘just a fuck’.”

“Whoa! Back up. Justin named Brian’s son? Justin named Gus? That was Justin!?”

It was Daphne’s turn to nod.

“Oh... my... God... Oh my God. Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!” Cynthia covered her mouth with her palm.

“What?”

“That was Justin.” Cynthia spoke out loud, but not really to Daphne.

“Yeah...?” Daphne was totally confused.

“I can explain. I have to go back a couple of years. How long have you been out of Pittsburgh?”

“A little less than two years.”

Cynthia nodded, “Then you were there when the bombing happened... at Babylon.”

Daphne nodded.

“It was an awful time for Brian. His best friend was seriously injured in the bombing. Lindsay and Mel -- Gus’s moms -- they decided that it would be safer if they moved to Canada. That nearly killed Brian to have them move Gus away so far away -- even though he was spending most of his time in LA working on his career. Whenever he had down time he’d spend it in Pittsburgh with his family and friends. But that’s beside the point. About the same time, things seemed be lining up behind the religious right.”

“...but what does all that have to do with Justin? With Brian and Justin?”

“Well, about that time, Brian got offered this great role -- a career-making role, bigger than _Vanished_. The only thing was, the studio put conditions on him. If he took the role he’d have to identify himself as straight. He’d have to live straight, date women -- no more men and no more backrooms. As you might guess, that didn’t exactly sit well with Brian -- no one tells him how to lead his life. He hadn’t been flaunting the fact that he was gay, but he wasn’t hiding it either.”

“So...?”

“So... all this went down at the same time. He was facing the biggest role of his career. His best friend had nearly died. His kid was being moved to Canada. Everything in his life seemed to be blowing up in his face. He knew he couldn’t live a lie -- saying he was straight -- to mollify the studio execs. Brian has this code that he lives by. You may not agree with it, but he’s true to it. And to do what the studio wanted him to do would have been a lie. 

“I had gone to see him about something or other from the agency. I found him at the loft, alone. He had some depressing shit playing on the stereo -- blues, jazz, something -- and was doing his best to kill a fifth of Jim Beam. He was drunk. He was high -- I think it was only pot... but with Brian who knows? I’d never seen him such a mess -- he’d just declined the studio job. He was talking nonsense -- or at least I thought it was nonsense. He talked to me about the bombing, Michael being injured, Gus leaving, all of it... For the first time in his life he questioned whether being out was at odds with his career. He questioned if he’d done the right thing. 

“He was way past melancholy... He started talking about relationships -- I’d never, _ever_ , heard Brian talk about wanting a relationship. More like he’d run in the opposite direction at the mere mention of one. But he was totally wasted, and not like I’d ever seen him. He kept going on about _’the one that got away’_. He kept saying that he’d had a chance at happiness, at love -- and believe me, that’s one four letter word that Brian had banished from his vocabulary. I’d never known him to have anyone in his life -- you know, _that_ way -- so I asked what he was talking about. And he told me. He told me about this blond haired kid who’d been there the night Gus was born. He said that he’d screwed up. He could have had something... but it was too late. I said something lame like maybe he’d see the guy again sometime. Brian said the only place he’d ever see they guy again was in his dreams. 

“He said he wanted to dream... I helped him to bed and left. The next time I saw Brian it was like that night had never happened. He was stronger, more resolute. He buckled down and put everything he had into his career. We never spoke about that night again. Now I understand why he looked at Justin the way he did. He’d seen a ghost.”


	7. Chapter 7

The shower beat down on his head, his shoulders. Justin let the steam fill the overly large enclosure and overtake him...  
 _“Where you headed?”_  
 _“No place special.”_  
 _“I can change that.”_

And he did. Brian had changed his whole life that night... and the next.

_“I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.”_

Justin couldn’t hold back the tears. He had been so sure he was in love with the beautiful older man. The man who helped Justin become a man -- become the man he was today.

_“Love is something that straight people tell themselves they’re in so that they can get laid.”_

So sayeth the great God Kinney. Justin certainly believed that it was true. Two failed relationships confirmed it. Only Justin couldn’t bring himself to live the way Brian did -- picking up a different man every night and discarding him as soon as he’d had him. 

When Justin felt the itch he scratched it.   
_”In and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.”_   
It was true. But it was lonely. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, Justin didn’t allow himself to get attached. He’d learned his lesson. He faced the showerhead and let the water wash away his tears.

So where did that leave him? He’d fucked Brian -- or rather Brian had fucked him... twice. Justin shook his head -- Brian had just waltzed in and taken over. He’d always considered himself a top, but he rolled right over for Brian. 

_Shit!_ He had another day that he'd have to spend sharing his home with Brian. Would Brian want to fuck him again? Did _he_ want that? Telling himself that they couldn’t have sex again was rather like shutting the barn door after the livestock had already escaped. 

Justin shook his head. Should he just go with the flow? Enjoy the next day and act like nothing had happened? If Brian wanted to do it again, should he just fuck his brains out? Let’s face it, Brian hadn’t lost any of his skill in the years since their first encounter.

A draft on his back alerted Justin that he was no longer alone. He turned.

“What the fuck? Brian? What are you doing here?”

“That seems to be your favorite question.” Brian climbed into the stall and shut the door behind him. The steam began to build up again. “I’m in need of a shower.”

“Get the fuck out! You have your own bathroom.”

“Yes, but this one seems so much more... like home.” 

Justin cringed. Indeed, the one thing that he’d spent money on when he relocated to Atlanta was updating the master bath. The fact that it was a near duplicate of the one at Brian’s loft in Pittsburgh had obviously not escaped the older man’s notice. _Damn! I knew I should have changed the color scheme. Fuck!_

“You know,” Brian continued, pushing a bit so they shared the stream of water from the showerhead, “when they brought us down here to shoot we were briefed on the water shortage. Just think of this as my contribution to conservation.”

Justin gave up. Shoving the foaming net ball that he’d been using into Brian’s hand he presented his back for scrubbing. “Make yourself useful.”

Brian smiled. This was turning out to be a lot easier than he’d expected; he began to swipe suds along Justin’s spine. 

Brian paid close attention to making sure that he was clean. Done with his back, he rotated Justin around and started on his front. He’d made his way down to just below the younger man’s navel when Justin grabbed the scrubber and pushed Brian’s hand away, the younger man’s hard-on obvious.

“I’d be happy to take care of that for you...”

Justin gave him a withering look. “Thanks, but perhaps you should take care of yourself.” 

Justin turned his back once more and concentrated on soaping his legs. As he bent down to wash his calves, the resulting presentation of Justin’s ass proved too distracting for Brian. 

Brian reached out and slowly slid his hands along Justin’s waist to his hips and finally captured the firm cheeks.

“Brian...” Justin warned as he felt the nudge of Brian’s hard cock against his ass. He straightened and looked over his shoulder, only to have his mouth consumed by Brian’s. When his lips were freed, he sighed. “I’m not... I don’t have... I’ll have to...”

Brian kissed along Justin’s jaw, his tongue tracing the line from chin to the shell of Justin’s ear. He whispered, “Don’t worry, I came prepared.”

Brian reached down to a corner of the shower and he plucked a packet of lube and a condom from the tile floor. The tear of the wrapper ripped through the sound of the water.

Justin closed his eyes. There was no turning back. He leaned against Brian, pulling the older man’s head down for a kiss.   
~~~~~~  
They ate a light meal of grilled chicken and salad greens. Conversation flowed easily. Eventually, the chiming of the hall clock alerted Justin to the hour. He stood up clearing, the plates from the table and crossing the room to load them into the dishwasher.

“Well, that’s it for me, I’m heading to bed.”

Brian glanced to the microwave. “It’s only eleven o’clock. Sort of early for a Saturday night, isn’t it?”

“I need to do some yard work tomorrow. I have to get started early -- the sun gets too hot by noon for me to spend any time outside. But don’t feel that you have to head to bed, stay up as long as you like.” 

Brian lightly touched Justin’s arm as the younger man moved toward the door. 

“Are we really going to spend the night in separate beds when we could spend it together?”

Justin’s teeth worried his lower lip. “Is that what you want?”

“Your house, your rules.”

Justin looked toward the door, then back at Brian. “I guess it is rather silly after this afternoon...”

_Good boy!_ Brian allowed himself a small smile. “I guess I’ll get my things.”

“I’ll meet you in my room... I have to lock up.”  
~~~~~~  
When Justin entered his bedroom he found Brian in bed. And by the looks of things -- at least what the sheet draped across Brian’s hip revealed -- he was naked. 

Justin crossed to the bathroom and shut the door. 

He took his time preparing for bed -- taking a piss, washing his face, brushing his teeth. Placing his Sonicare toothbrush in the charger, he noted Brian’s matching brush lying close by. It was propped up in the open blue travel pack. It looked freshly used. Brian’s shaving kit was next to it. Justin peered into it, as if it might reveal the secrets of the man who lay waiting in his bed.

It was pretty tame -- soap, floss, condoms, lube packets, razor -- no great surprises (unless you counted the _number_ of condoms).

Justin stripped down to his boxer briefs, turning off the bathroom light as he exited to the bedroom. He stopped at the foot of the bed as if debating his next move.

“Am I on the wrong side...?”

“Huh? Oh... no, you’re fine.” Justin joined Brian on the bed. He normally slept in the nude; but with Brian here, he contemplated keeping his underwear on... _Fuck it!_ He reached down and removed the soft knit fabric.

Brian watched the whole thing with hooded eyes. When Justin had closed the bathroom door, he wasn’t entirely sure how the rest of the evening would play out. Things were definitely looking up.

Without thinking, Justin reached out to turn off the bedside lamp before realizing that he’d have to lean across Brian to do it. 

Realizing what Justin was attempting, Brian wrapped one arm around him, hugging him close to his body, while he moved his free hand to the lamp and turned it off. Justin was stiff as he lay across Brian’s chest.

“Relax,” Brian breathed the word in Justin’s ear as his fingers threaded through fine silk of his golden hair. Brian’s other hand moved softly in a line along Justin’s spine.

Justin startled at the touch, but Brian continued soothing strokes with his fingertips. 

It felt awkward to be sharing his bed -- Justin never invited his tricks home. And now, here he was, with Brian. When Brian first touched him, he thought that it was an overture to sex. His whole body tensed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been expecting that they would fuck again that night. You don’t invite Brian Kinney into your bed and assume that nothing is going to happen. Indeed, a part of him craved the closeness and comfort of a less-than-anonymous partner.

Brian felt the stiff body yield and melt against his own. _Better_. He continued to trace a pattern up and down Justin’s back, to feather the strands of soft hair through his fingers. The time he’d spent with Justin that evening had told him that he hadn’t been wrong all those years. There was definitely something here. The sex in the shower earlier that night had helped to take the edge off. Sure, he was ready for another round, but he could wait.

In the darkness, Justin relaxed. His mind wandered back to that night seven years ago. His fear and anticipation. The interruption and dash to the hospital. Brian holding his newborn son. Brian, patient and knowledgeable, as he introduced Justin to sex. The way they couldn’t seem to get enough of one another -- not so different from where they were now. 

Justin’s mind raced ahead. The next day. The rejection.   
_”I’ve had you.”_

Justin tensed once again and struggled against Brian. All of the sudden the bed was too small. 

“Hey,” Brian’s voice was soft as he tried to calm whatever fear had taken hold of the younger man. “It’s all right.” He brought his arms around the pale body, and pulled Justin close.

“Is it?”

Brian could hear the fear and panic in Justin’s voice.

“Yeah, it’s going to be okay.”

Justin wrestled himself free of Brian’s hold. His arms held him up as he looked down at the older man. His eyes, accustomed to the dark now, looked deep into Brian’s hazel ones.

“How do you know? How do you have a fucking clue what I’m thinking? ...what I’m feeling?”

“I don’t... but I do. It’s not that hard to figure out that we’re both taking the same trip down memory lane.”

“So tell me, is this just another fuck? In the morning will you be long gone? Or will we just meet again in another seven years?” He didn’t need to relive the pain and hurt.

Raw and vulnerable, Justin made a move to retreat to the opposite side of the bed. But Brian was quicker. He gathered Justin back into his arms and held firm while the younger man made every effort to evade his grasp. When it became evident that he wasn’t letting go, Justin quieted and sighed in defeat.

“The only way I’m leaving is if you kick me out -- it _is_ your house. You control what goes on here.”

Justin gave a snort of laughter. “Yeah, right.”

Brian resumed his stroking of Justin. _Was it so bad?_ Brian wanted to ask, but he was feeling a bit exposed himself.

From the hallway the clock struck midnight.

“I need to get some sleep. I have to get up early in the morning.” Justin effectively brought any conversation to an end. However, he didn’t move. He laid there on Brian’s chest letting the long lean fingers lull him to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh, so you do live here.” 

Daphne straightened up from her inspection of the refrigerator’s contents and turned her attention to Justin who stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He was clad in baggy gray sweat shorts and a well-worn, loose t-shirt proclaiming **_PIFA ArtSmart 2003_**.

“Of course I do.” She poured him a mug of coffee from the carafe she had just brewed and handed it to him. “Here, you’re just grouchy because you haven’t had your morning caffeine fix.”

Justin accepted the token of peace from her, and dumped three heaping teaspoons of sugar into the mug before drinking. 

Justin was about to say something when Brian, shirtless and shoeless, padded into the room. The top button of his jeans was unbuttoned and there was an innate sexiness to his rumpled hair. 

Brian wrapped his arms around Justin from behind and nuzzled his neck. “Mmmorning...” he managed to get out. Spying the mug, he plucked it from Justin’s grasp. “Mmmmm, coffeeeee.” He took a few sips before pushing the mug back into Justin’s hand and returned to nuzzling his neck.

Justin’s face was getting pinker by the minute.

Daphne watched the interaction with interest. “Um... Brian?” He looked up -- okay she had his attention. “Can I have my cell phone?”

Resigned, he let go of Justin. “Sure, it’s on the porch -- I’ll go get it.” He went to retrieve the phone.

Daphne watched him leave. When she thought Brian was out of earshot she turned on Justin and hissed, “You two, like, sooo did it!”

Perturbed though he was, he didn’t even bother denying it. “Isn’t that what you expected? After all you deserted me in my hour of need. Where the hell were you?”

“I was hiding out at Cynthia’s. We were talking, drinking, and before I knew it I was too drunk and too sleepy. I crashed on her couch -- which is really comfy, by the way. But never mind that... Dish!”

Justin was saved by Brian returning to the kitchen and handing Daphne her phone.

“Thanks!” Daphne said taking it.

Brian nodded to her, then latched onto Justin again. He alternated between nuzzling the blond’s neck and drinking his coffee.

Daphne’s smile kept getting bigger as she watched Justin trying to decide whether to be pissed at Brian or simply enjoy his attentions. 

An empty coffee mug made the decision for him. Justin moved his shoulders to dislodge the mouth currently sucking on his neck. He just _knew_ he’d have hickeys tomorrow -- and it wasn’t like he could wear a turtleneck this time of year. Moving away from Brian he went over to the coffeemaker and filled two mugs, returning via the table where he added sugar to his mug. Glancing up, he cocked an eyebrow in question to Brian who nodded his assent, then stirred sugar into the other. Handing Brian the second mug, he leaned against the kitchen island opposite from where the older man stood.

Daphne hid a smile as she looked from one man to the other. She knew they didn’t have a clue that their movements looked like a well choreographed dance. There was a natural ease to it all -- like they had known one another for years. “So... do you two have plans today?”

“I’m working in the yard this morning. I had planned to paint this afternoon -- don’t know if that’s gonna happen.”

“That reminds me...” Brian joined the conversation. “I actually came in here to ask you about borrowing a shirt. I don’t have anything suitable for yard work with me.” Brian looked at Justin’s baggy sweat shorts. “I don’t suppose you have another pair of those, too?”

“You don’t have to...”

Brian waved away Justin’s protest. “Hey, I’m an unscheduled guest. While you’re keeping my _adoring public_ away from me, I’m keeping you from your weekend plans. The least I can do is not cause any further disruption by helping out where possible. So... if I can borrow a couple of things -- a T-shirt at least, and some shorts if you have them -- I’ll be all set to lend a hand. Besides, you’ll get twice as much done in half the time if we work together.”

Justin figured it was easier to give in than waste fifteen minutes arguing -- and then give in. “Uh... sure... In the bureau, in my room. The top two drawers should have something.”

Brian padded off to the bedroom with his coffee.

“So... was it all you remembered?”

Justin fought the grin, but it won out anyway. “Better.”

“Really?!”

All of a sudden Justin’s eyes got huge. “Oh shit!” He ran out of the kitchen to his bedroom.

It was too late. Brian stood at Justin’s bureau, a pair of thong underwear swinging casually from an extended finger. He raised an eyebrow at the younger man who was running full-tilt into the room.

“Hmmm... I would have taken you for a boxer brief man.”

Justin grabbed for the thong, but Brian moved his hand above his head, effectively placing the underwear out of reach.

Justin didn’t dignify the ploy with any further pursuit. Instead he rummaged around the drawers of the bureau and came up with a T-shirt and pair of shorts for Brian to borrow. He thrust the folded clothes at Brian.

Brian took the offering and handed Justin the thong. He pulled the T-shirt over his head and exchanged his jeans for the soft cotton shorts.

“You know, I have some underwear like that. I like them a lot. In fact, I recently looked to replace several pairs that had worn out. Funny thing though, they don’t make that style anymore... haven’t in years.”

Sick of the cat and mouse game, Justin shoved the underwear at Brian. “Here! They’re yours! Okay?” He left the room in a huff.

Brian smiled. He’d give Justin a few minutes to cool off.

“What was that all about?” Daphne asked him when Justin stomped back into the kitchen.

“Fucking Brian!” was all he said as he slammed out the door to the yard.

Daphne watched Justin’s departure trying to figure out what just happened.

“All clear?” Brian walked into the kitchen wearing his ‘yard’ clothes. Daphne promptly marched over and hit him in the arm, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He rubbed his bicep; for such a small woman, she packed quite a punch.

“What the fuck is wrong with _me_? What fuck is wrong with _you_?” She shoved him and didn’t bother to wait for an answer; she pushed on. “Ten minutes ago you were groping Justin and he was enjoying it. Now he can’t stand the sight of you! Just what the hell did you do?”

Brian curled his lips into his teeth and actually looked a tad sheepish. “I was just teasing him a bit.”

“Well, stop it! How the hell do you expect me to pave your way to accommodations for the rest of the shoot if you keep pushing his buttons?” She stood there, fire in her pissed-off eyes, hands on hips. Brian was afraid she might actually punch him again.

Brian waved his hands, “Truce!”

Daphne pointed to the door. “You go out there and see if you can repair the damage you’ve done. If I’m lucky, I can try to broach the subject of your staying here tomorrow morning. God knows he’s not even going to be open to the subject today. Well?” Her arms were folded across her chest and she was actually tapping her foot. “What are you waiting for?”

“Sorry.” Brian mumbled as he headed outdoors.

“Sorry’s bullshit,” Daphne retorted.

Brian looked back at her. “Where’d you hear a stupid thing like that?”  
~~~~~~

Brian found Justin in the shade of a large oak tree. He was clearing debris and weeds from the surrounding flowerbed; a straw hat was perched on his head to shade him from the sun. Brian was about to make a joke about ‘Farmer Taylor’, then thought better of it. Instead he knelt close by. Donning the spare pair of gardening gloves that lay nearby, Brian began to duplicate the actions of the younger man. 

The two made their way from garden bed to garden bed in silence -- which seemed to work for both of them. By time the sun was directly overhead, they had made their way through six beds.

“I guess that will have to be enough for today.” Justin stripped his hands of his gardening gloves and picked up the bucket filled with weeds and leaves.

Brian rose and stretched his back. He wasn’t used to exercising this set of muscles. “I could use a hot shower.” He looked at Justin. “I don’t suppose you’d care to join me?”

Justin shrugged. He knew that the invitation was for more than a shower. He also knew that despite Brian’s annoying behavior earlier that morning, he wanted the “more” that Brian was offering. “I’m going to fold this stuff into the compost heap. I’ll catch up with you.”

Brian nodded and headed toward the house.  
~~~~~~

Brian was enjoying the steam and the hot stream of water that beat down upon his sore muscles when Justin entered the shower enclosure. He shifted to make room for the younger man under the spray; picking up a bar of soap he began to wash the pale skin of Justin's back.

Closing his eyes, Justin gave himself over to the slow sweep of Brian’s hands as they washed away the sweat and dirt from the yard. The warm heat of the water combined with Brian’s stroking of his skin was intoxicating and Justin couldn’t hold back the sigh of pleasure. “Mmmmm...” 

Justin’s head fell back and Brian captured his mouth in a kiss. “Mmmmm...” he agreed.

The steam enveloped them as their lips played slowly against one another. Justin turned and moved closer. Was he only setting himself up for disappointment? He didn’t care. Right now all he cared about was Brian -- Brian’s strong hands, Brian’s commanding lips, Brian’s oh-so-talented tongue.

Brian pulled Justin tighter and deepened their kiss. This was the fantasy that had been rolling around in his head -- teasing him, tormenting him. Reality now, Brian realized that it was more important than ever that he stay here for the rest of the shoot. _Would this fascination run its course? Would these incredible feelings dissolve into apathy or worse yet, indifference? What if it didn’t?_ Brian was feeling a bit ambivalent about it all -- _was he really interested in something longer than an interlude?_

The play of Justin’s hands against his chest chased away the questions. Brian felt the sweep of a tongue across his nipples -- first the right, then the left -- and let out a huff as air pushed from his lungs. Before he knew it, Justin was winding his way down his flat stomach and burrowing into the wet nest of hair below. Brian leaned back against the tile wall, sure his legs wouldn’t hold out much longer.

Justin reveled in his control of Brian. So far, the older man had led the way. Justin knew he needed to get them on equal footing if they were to move to anything beyond the magnetic pull that existed between them. Sexual chemistry would only take you so far... but for right now, it would be enough.

Justin’s tongue swiped at the slit of Brian’s cock, eliciting an appreciative moan. He continued his travels down the length of the shaft, following along the pronounced vein to its root, then lower still to Brian’s balls. Applying a bit of pressure, Justin slowed things down a bit. His plan was to make this last a good, long, hard time. 

Brian’s fingers tunneled through the soaked silk of Justin’s hair, molding his palms to the younger man’s head -- holding, but not controlling. He understood this was Justin’s show; he had no intention of changing that.

Justin nuzzled at Brian’s wet pubes and sucked lightly at his balls. _Was he imagining things? Did his tongue feel a scar there?_ He shook off the thought as he moved to swallow the length of Brian. He alternated between sucking and licking -- the water beating down on them made it a challenge, but he managed to breathe all the same. His hands massaged Brian’s thighs, his hips, his ass. His fingertips made circles moving closer to his goal.

Brian was consumed by Justin’s every touch -- his tongue, his fingertips -- each swipe, stroke and caress. As Justin increased the pressure with his mouth, his fingertips burrowed that much further into folds of flesh. The soap- and water-slicked fingers eased along Brian’s tight opening, fondling lightly, waiting for the point of relaxation so they could move deeper into the recess of his body.

Brian felt himself loosening and shifted his stance a bit wider. He knew where this was going, and he wanted to go there. He gave a small cry of satisfaction as he felt Justin’s fingers invade him. Justin’s touch was gentle and patient, waiting for him to indicate he was ready for more. Combined with the steady attention to his cock, Brian was almost undone by the dual sensations. 

Justin took the cue as he felt Brian’s body relax and his fingers were pulled further inside the tight opening. He slowly, but steadily, worked his way deeper -- pushing further to find the right angle. He felt Brian respond as his fingers passed over a bundle of nerves; he lightly massaged along Brian’s prostate, applying minimal pressure as he renewed his efforts, sucking Brian deep in his throat. Justin’s every move was designed to heighten the pleasure, push Brian to the edge of the precipice.

With a hoarse cry Brian felt himself empty into Justin’s waiting mouth, which sucked eagerly, taking every drop. His muscles bore down and held the fingers that were massaging him from the inside. Finally spent, Brian felt his back slide slowly down the tiled wall.

Justin assisted him so that they both sat on the floor of the shower, the water still raining down upon them. Leaning into Brian’s arms, he offered his mouth and Brian took it in a tender kiss, tasting Justin, the water and himself. 

They sat there, Justin held in Brian’s arms, until the water turned cold and they were forced to move.  
~~~~~

Brian sat on the toilet watching Justin shave. He considered joining him in the ritual, but decided that tomorrow was soon enough. He’d never done this before -- watching someone shave, sharing the little moments of the day with a partner. _Partner?! Where did that come from?_ He gave his head a slight shake.

“You still planning on painting this afternoon?”

Justin looked up and caught Brian’s eye in the mirror. “Yeah, I thought I’d continue working on what we started yesterday.”

_You don’t need paint for that._ “Would you like me to continue posing?” 

Justin took in Brian where he sat, clad in only a brief towel. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not a problem.”

“I thought that we’d grab a bite to eat beforehand.” As if on cue, Justin’s stomach growled.

Brian snorted a laugh, “Probably not a bad idea. I guess after the yard work and... other things... a bite wouldn’t hurt.” _Food first, a bite later._

Brian stayed with him until he finished shaving. They grabbed something to eat, and headed into the studio. Brian stayed on his best behavior. He wasn’t about to screw this up -- whatever _this_ was.


	9. Chapter 9

Justin watched Daphne over his bowl of cereal. A sense of unease settled around him. Something was up.

“Um... so... where’s Brian this morning?”

“He had to be on the set at six this morning. Cynthia picked him up around 5:30.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong, Daphne?”

“Oh... umm... no... nothing’s wrong.”

“Sure...” Justin drew out the word slowly.

Daphne stared at her bowl, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Spill it.” He said the words in a deadly soft voice.

When she finally opened her mouth, the words rushed out. “Brian wants to stay here for the remainder of the shoot.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting _that_. “What makes you think so?”

“He told me.”

“Oh, and when did he impart this little fact?”

“Well, he didn’t really tell me so much as he told Cynthia. He called her Saturday afternoon and said he wanted to stay.”

Saturday afternoon? That would have been before he moved into Justin’s bedroom for the weekend -- maybe even before they’d fucked?

“What time did he call? What, exactly, did he say?”

“I don’t know - five-thirty, maybe six-ish? He told Cynthia he didn’t care how we did it, but come today he wanted to be here permanently -- well, permanently ‘til the end of the shoot.”

“And you didn’t feel it necessary -- as my best friend -- to share this with me before now?”

Daphne twisted her fingers nervously. “Well, yesterday morning you two were all over each other; it didn’t seem like it would be such a bad idea. The next time I saw you, you stormed out of here and I knew that that wasn’t a good time to bring it up. And last night I stopped by before bed, but you and Brian were... had already... uh, retired.. for the night.” Daphne actually felt herself blush.

“You came back last night and we were fucking.”

“Sounded like that. You know, for an old house, sound really travels.”

Now it was Justin’s turn to blush. _Fuck! Just how loud had they been?_

“Well, now that’s he’s gotten what he came for I imagine he’ll forget all about his request for housing.”

Daphne snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Justin went back to eating his cereal. _What the fuck was Brian up to?_ He looked at Daphne. “So what did you and Cynthia come up with?”

~~~~~~

Brian was on the screened-in porch when Justin arrived home from work. He stopped in the middle of the driveway and stared at the man. Brian had on glasses, which made him look really sexy, and he was reading from a large binder -- a script? Justin trudged into the house. He dropped his messenger bag on the kitchen table and went through the mail. He was getting himself something to drink when Brian appeared in the doorway, barefoot.

“So dear, how was your day?”

Justin shot him a look.

“That good, eh?”

“The ‘Art Director’, and I use that term loosely -- God! I hate that title, like anyone can direct art -- is an asshole.”

“Well, don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.”

“I spent the last week working on a layout for him, which he requested. I brought it to him today and he tells me that he’s changed his mind. He’d rather go with the idea that I’d pitched him a week ago, which he’d vetoed. And oh, since it was my idea, it shouldn’t take me long -- read: two hours -- for me to flesh it out some. He needs all of it tomorrow. To-fricking-morrow!”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Tell me about it.” He hesitated a beat, and then asked, “By the way, what are you doing here?”

“The studio’s having a bit of a red-tape issue getting me out of my current lease and into new accommodations. Daphne thought you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here until they clear it up. You don’t mind, do you?” Brian delivered it all with bland indifference.

Justin masked his annoyance at being lied to. He reminded himself that Brian made his living acting; he was just reading from the chosen script. Justin shrugged. “You’re here already, what’s another couple of nights?” 

“Thanks. Uh, we’ll be keeping to the same arrangements?”

Justin almost laughed. No matter how good an actor Brian was, playing diffident didn’t ring true. But Justin would string him along for a while. “I see no reason for things to change. Uh, that is if you don’t?”

“I can’t think of a reason.” Brian’s tongue stuck in his cheek as he gave Justin a sly grin.

_That was more like it. That definitely was Brian._

“So, I was thinking that I’d grill some chicken for dinner and make some salad. Have you eaten?”

Brian shook his head. “No. But that sounds good.” He watched as Justin opened the fridge and started to rummage around. “Can I help? Maybe set the table?”

Justin rolled his eyes, thankful he was not facing Brian. He wondered how far he could go with this thing.

“Uh, Honey?” With his head stuck in the fridge, he raised a bag of mesculin up behind his back toward Brian’s voice.

Brian jerked to a halt from counting out silverware. Surely, Justin didn’t just call him _Honey_. He crossed to the fridge and took the proffered lettuce.

As soon as his hand was free, Justin grabbed chicken, then tomatoes, then an obscenely long cucumber and a jar of artichoke hearts handing each item backwards, and collecting a new item in its place each time his hand was emptied. Olives, mushrooms, carrots and a red onion joined the other items on the counter. 

Just about the time when Brian was sure that Justin had managed to empty out the entire contents of the fridge, the younger man straightened and closed the refrigerator door. Turning to Brian with a smile, he reached up on tiptoes and kissed Brian on the cheek. “Thanks, Honey!”

Not waiting to see Brian’s reaction -- though he was dying to -- Justin busied himself with mixing up a marinade, and setting the chicken in it so it would have time to soak up the oil, vinegar and spices. Washing his hands free of the chicken, he then busied himself with putting together salads for himself and Brian.

After dinner, Justin headed to the studio and his computer to put in some hours on the work due in the morning. Brian went back to the screened porch and studied his lines.

~~~~~~

Justin stretched. Even with an ergonomic desk chair, his back was still stiff. He looked on the computer for the time. _After eleven, time to call it a night._ He burned a CD of his work to take to the office in the morning and shut down his computer for the night. 

Moving into his bedroom, Justin stopped. He was surprised to find Brian already in bed. He was propped up against the pillows reading from the same dark binder. The sexy glasses were perched low on his nose. _Brian in glasses *sigh!*_.

Resuming his steps, he crossed over to the bathroom and started to strip off his clothes. He’d just stepped under the spray of the shower when Brian appeared.

“Mind if I join you?” Brian closed the door to the shower. 

Justin shrugged, perfectly aware of how this would probably end. He sighed audibly as Brian’s soapy hands stroked up and down his back. 

Brian could feel the tension in Justin’s shoulders and back. Instead of escalating things to their obvious conclusion, he slowed it down a little and concentrated on relaxing Justin.

Brian pressed his thumbs into the flesh along Justin’s spine where his ass started to curve, then vertebra by vertebra he worked his way up to Justin’s shoulders. He fanned his hands out along his shoulder blades and kneaded the tension he felt there. Justin’s head fell forward and Brian pressed a kiss to the now exposed point where neck and shoulder met. He paused.

“More,” Justin demanded quietly. He felt Brian’s hands resume their therapeutic travels, taking a path along his sides, down his ribs to his waist. Brian’s thumbs rubbed circles on his hips and along the points where his thighs met his torso. Brian fitted his hands along the fold and massaged. He was so close to touching him, but too far away. Justin shifted trying to get Brian’s hands closer to where he ached, but Brian’s long, lean fingers extended down the muscles of his quads instead. Justin felt his knees weaken.

He stumbled and Brian pulled him close. Justin leaned back onto Brian, under the softly falling spray of the shower, savoring his strength. 

Justin’s entire body began to undulate, rolling along the length of Brian. Brian’s arms crossed, pulling Justin more tightly against him. He could feel his cock twitch and start to harden, stimulated by the insistent rubbing of Justin’s ass against his crotch. He began a pattern of slow, languid circles along Justin’s chest. Justin’s soft, pale skin seemed to call for Brian’s touch. His hands swept along the younger man’s chest, teasing his nipples to points and pinching them lightly. He nuzzled Justin’s neck, biting lightly at the flesh exposed there.

Justin breathed out a muffled “Ahhhh...”

Brian held him loosely and bumped his now hard cock along the seam of Justin’s cheeks, “Like that?”

Justin closed his eyes and nodded.

“Want more?”

“Oh, yes...”

Later, as they lay in bed together Justin felt loose and relaxed, and fully satiated. With his head on Brian’s chest, he absently traced circles along Brian’s pecs. He stopped to yawn and stretch, then burrowed snugly into Brian’s welcoming arms.

“Mmmmmm...” Justin purred out a satisfied sigh. Then, he felt more than heard the answering chuckle bubble up in Brian’s chest. 

“I do believe that that is a very satisfying way to round out the evening,” Brian agreed with a smile.

Justin ran a finger along Brian’s arm and watched the hairs stand on end in response to the lightest of touches. “You know, if you stayed here the rest of your shoot, we could end every night like tonight.”

Brian stiffened -- but just for an instant -- before willing himself to relax.

Justin had to fight not to laugh. He had better enjoy the rest of the night. He was sure by the time he got up in the morning for work Brian would be packed and long gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Daphne halted in her tracks as she was walking from her cottage to the driveway. Brian was leaning against the rental car that he’d been provided by the studio, watching her intently. When she started to walk again, she crossed away from him and headed down the driveway.

“Not so fast, Daphne. You’re just the girl I wanted to talk to.”

A shiver of trepidation ran up her spine. “Maybe tonight? I have to catch the bus or I’ll be late for work.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Why don’t I give you a lift?”

“Uh, no thanks. I wouldn’t want to make you late or anything.”

“I’m not due at the Studio until ten. _I insist_.”

Daphne swallowed visibly. She couldn’t think of how she could get out of this, so she got in the car. 

Brian waited until they were on the Interstate that would take them downtown before saying anything. “He knows doesn’t he? You told him.”

“Uh... I didn’t mean to... but he’s been my best friend since grade school... besides, it’s not like you’re serious or anything.”

“What makes you think I’m not serious?”

“Well, Justin... he says the last time you guys saw each other -- in Pittsburgh -- you were very clear about not wanting anything more than a fuck. He thinks that now that you guys have... ah... um... uh...”

“Fucked?” Brian supplied.

“Uh, yeah, um... fucked. Now that you’ve fucked you’ll get bored and leave sooner or later. He figures you’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”

“If that’s the case, why is he letting me stay?”

“He thinks it will run it’s course. That, and that the sex is totally hot.” 

_Well, at least Justin wasn’t denying their attraction to one another._

Brian dropped Daphne off and headed for the studio. 

Cynthia met up with him as he parked his car. He looked at her quizzically. “What’s up?”

“Change of plans. There’s a problem with today’s shooting schedule. The studio was going to cancel, but it seems that word has gotten out about Friday night’s daring escape from your apartment. The entertainment news shows want some sound bites -- you’re taping with them at 11, 11:30 and 12:30. You’re scheduled at CNN at 2pm to tape for _Showbiz Tonight_. This is really important. If all goes well, they’re going to have the entire cast on _Larry King_ next week for an interview -- the studio’s depending upon you. Oh, yeah, and the local Fox affiliate is going to do a week-long series of pieces on _Vanished_ \-- they’re being filmed here in Atlanta, and you and the other lead characters all will have interviews. Your interview tapes tomorrow morning and will air tomorrow night.”

“That all seems rather quick.” He was more used to press junkets for the films he’d worked on. Those were all scheduled way in advance.

“In television it’s all a ratings game. If they can keep _Vanished_ in the spotlight and keep the buzz going, by the time the pilot airs we’ll be signing a contract for season two. Your fan woes go a long way to stirring up interest.”

“I guess.” Brian looked at his watch, nearly 10:00. He switched subjects. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Sure thing - what do you need?”

Brian took two keys off of his key ring and handed them to Cynthia who looked questioningly at Brian. “This,” he pointed to the silver key with three notched holes, “is for my apartment. This,” he pointed to the gold key, “is for Justin’s house. While I’m off making nice with the tabloid press, I need you to go to my apartment, pack everything up, and and haul it over to Justin’s.”

“You mean our harebrained scheme worked?” Cynthia was stunned, she didn’t think Justin was stupid.

“Not exactly as planned, but the end result was the same.”

“I never thought about it before, but how much shit do you have at your place?”

“Not much, clothes mostly -- the place came furnished. Most of my stuff is in the bedroom and the bathroom. However, there are two art pieces I need you to wrap carefully and pack.”

“Art? You bring your own art on a shoot?”

Brian gave her a quelling look.

“Never mind, what do you want me to do with the ‘art’?”

“There’s a framed, nude sketch of me in the bedroom.”

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” Brian replied disgustedly. “You can ogle it all you like, just make sure it’s wrapped securely -- get some of that bubble shit. The other piece is a large canvas - about four feet square...”

“The one in the living room? I always thought that it was way too nice to come with a furnished apartment.”

“Yeah, well... I need you to wrap it carefully too.”

“So how am I supposed to get all your shit into Justin’s place? I’ll need the gate codes along with the key.”

“Right, its 120300.” Brian stilled.

“What was that, again? Wait, I’m going to have to write this down.” Cynthia was scrambling in her purse for a pen and paper -- she didn’t notice the change in Brian’s demeanor. 

“12-03-00,” Brian repeated. _Gus’s birthday -- the night we met._

“Got it that time.” Cynthia folded the piece of paper and put it and the pen back in her purse. She looked up at Brian. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah... Where am I supposed to be for the first interview again?”

“In conference room A -- here at the studio. They’re doing a video conference, but they’ll probably just quote you or use a sound bite with a studio publicity shot. Someone from Fox is supposed to drive you over to CNN. I suppose you could drive yourself -- but parking’s a hassle. If you decide to drive yourself, it’s downtown on Forsyth Street near the Georgia Dome -- you can’t miss it.”

Brian nodded and headed into the building for his interview.

The interviews for _Entertainment Tonight_ , _The Insider_ , and _Access Hollywood_ were about what he’d imagine they’d be. He’d chatted briefly about _Vanished_ and answered the perfunctory questions about crazed fans.

He’d ended up taking a cab to CNN and was escorted into a studio to where he did a remote interview with A.J. Hammer in New York.

Brian went through the motions, answering the same questions he had already answered three times that morning. Even though the host of _Showbiz Tonight_ was hot, it wasn’t enough to combat the boredom Brian felt answering the same tedious and unimaginative questions. But he was a professional, so he kept his expression studiously genial and acted interested as A.J. droned on about _Vanished_ , the challenges of filming on location, and life away from home.

“So Brian, where is home for you?”

“I’m from Pittsburgh originally. When I’m not working on a project or on location, I generally head back there to visit with friends and family.”

“Family?

“Yes, my son lives in Pittsburgh with his mother.”

“Son? Rumor has it that you’re gay.”

The other interviews were too short to hit this land mine. Brian could just imagine the studio execs cringing as A.J. went for what Brian was sure he thought was the jugular. He smiled, but if A.J. had been paying attention, he would have noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach Brian’s eyes.

“I am, but that doesn’t exclude me from having children. My son is a very important part of my life. I make every effort to spend time with him when I’m able to.”

“Is there anyone else special back in Pittsburgh?”

_Christ! Could he be any more lame?_

Brian poked his cheek with his tongue. “In Pittsburgh...? No.”

A.J. knew an opening when he heard one. “So no one special in Pittsburgh... Perhaps there’s someone special somewhere else? Maybe even in Atlanta?”

Brian decided to throw him a bone. In the back of his mind a wicked thought flickered and took hold. “I recently became reacquainted with someone... from my past. You might say he’d _Vanished_ only to be discovered in another city. It’s too soon to tell, but I’m hopeful...”

Even through the monitor, Brian could see A.J.’s eyes gleam. The guy knew he had _the_ story. Brian had just served him up a scoop on a silver platter. Brian could tell that A.J. wanted to pursue this line of questioning, but the production assistant, who he could see in one of the monitors, was circling her hand indicating it was time wrap things up. Brian was sure that A.J. was grinding his teeth.

“Well, Brian, that’s all the time we have here today. I want to thank you for joining us. Good luck with your new series. I’m A.J. Hammer in New York, with Brian Kinney, at our CNN studios in Atlanta. Brian stars in the new Fox series _Vanished_ which airs on Monday nights at 9 p.m.”

“And we’re out...” a voice called from across the room. The local production assistant came by, divested Brian of his microphone, and thanked him for his time. In ten minutes, Brian was in a cab and headed back to the studio.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey Cynthia!” Justin greeted her happily as she exited her rental car.

“Justin!” Cynthia pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth. She hadn’t really expected Justin to be home. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing -- I live here.”

“Uh... Brian asked me to pack his things and bring them over here. He said you’d told him... asked him... to move in with you.” 

Justin raised his eyebrows.

“You... uh... _did_ ask him -- right?”

_Holy Shit! Brian was actually going through with this?_ Justin pulled himself out of the clouds. “Um... sure... Sure.” _Think, Justin. Think!_ “We can put his stuff in the spare cottage. I’ll help you.”

Justin waited while Cynthia popped the trunk. He hefted out a large Louis Vuitton suitcase and slung a garment bag over his shoulder leaving Cynthia to deal with the smaller pieces of matching luggage. It only took a couple of trips.

“What about these?” Justin pointed to the artwork encased in bubble wrap that was in the back seat.

“I’m not sure what Brian had in mind. I was thinking that I could store them at my place.”

Justin shook his head. “There’s plenty of room in the cottage for these. One less thing for you to haul around.”

Cynthia frowned. “I don’t know... Brian was very specific that he wanted those carefully wrapped and protected.”

“They’ll be safe here -- I know how to care for art.”

“Well... okay.” She wasn’t really desperate to have the stuff cluttering up her place. Plus, if Brian was so attached to this stuff that he’d bring it on the shoot with him, it was reasonable that he’d want it close by. She wasn’t looking forward to having him drop by her place any time he wanted to visit his art.

~~~~~~

Once Cynthia had left, Justin went back to the small cottage. He walked into the bedroom and ran a hand over Brian’s luggage. He’d love to have a look inside. _No! You can’t!_ The voice in his head was very clear... However, if Brian’s clothes were left in the bags, they’d end up getting wrinkled. The only polite thing to do would be unpack, he rationalized.

Justin set about the task of emptying the cases, while telling himself that Brian would just believe that Cynthia had unpacked for him. He hung Brian’s shirts, fingering the soft fabrics. He learned that Brian had a penchant for designer-label silk. There were three suits in the garment bag -- two Armani, one Hugo Boss. They ranged in tone from a dark brown with just a touch of olive to a more olive green, to a lightweight wool in khaki. Justin could imagine how Brian would look in the custom-tailored suits -- totally hot. When he found himself standing in front of the closet, stroking the suit material, he knew it was time to move on.

A large duffle contained sports and workout wear. Justin filled the bottom drawers of an armoire with the sweats and tees. Brian’s tastes seemed to run to sleeveless, ‘wifebeater’ style tanks -- they’d show off his well-toned arms and shoulders to perfection. Emptying the rest of the duffle, he placed jeans and casual sportswear in the dresser. 

The last piece of luggage -- a small duffle -- held socks and underwear. He settled the socks in the drawer and then reached into the bag to retrieve a stack of underwear. _Shit! There must be at least thirty pairs here._ Hesitating only a moment, he slowly sifted through the stack -- there were boxer-briefs, briefs and thongs. Justin smiled, it seemed Brian had a thing for underwear. His fingers slid across the smooth fabric of a pair of micro-fiber boxer-briefs, his breath coming in short pants as he thought of Brian standing in front of him clad only in the sheer fabric. _Fuck! Maybe I do too._ Quickly, he stuffed the underwear in alongside the socks and shut the drawer.

Justin made short work of stowing the now empty luggage in the back of the closet and turned to exit the bedroom. 

The artwork was leaning against the wall near the door. _May as well unpack these too._ He retrieved a pair of scissors from the small galley kitchen and knelt by the packages. Starting with the smaller piece, he carefully cut along the tape. Justin set the scissors aside and with the frame face down, unwrapped the protective coating. Flipping the picture over, he almost dropped it when he came face-to-face with a sketch he had done of Brian more than seven years before.

With a soft thud, Justin dropped to his butt on the floor and stared at the sketch. He’d donated it -- anonymously -- to the art show at the Gay and Lesbian Center, a benefit for the day care center that they were building. That must have been how Brian found it -- and apparently bought it. Though Brian didn’t strike him as the type to frequent the Gay and Lesbian Center, it sure looked as if he’d been there at least once. 

Carefully placing the framed sketch to the side, Justin quickly unwrapped the second package. It was another more recent piece -- again donated anonymously to a benefit art show at the Gay and Lesbian Center.

_Did Brian know that the signature “J.Taylor” was him?_ He sat and stared at his own artwork, until the sound of a car in the driveway woke him from his musings. 

Justin roused himself to move -- he didn’t want to be caught going through Brian’s things. Since Daphne didn’t have a car it only stood to reason that it was Brian’s car approaching the house. Justin took a quick look around to make sure everything was in place, then exited the cottage via the back door. Rounding the building, appearing as if he’d come from the garage, Justin made his way across the brick driveway and greeted Brian.

“Short day?” It was only 5:30pm; Brian had indicated that he’d be back late when Justin had headed out to work that morning.

Brian nodded as he rose from the vehicle and joined Justin on the driveway. He leaned down and bestowed a chaste kiss on his lips before grabbing his briefcase from the back of the car. “Shooting got delayed, I spent most of the day in interviews.” He hesitated a moment -- Justin looked to be in a good mood. “Has Cynthia been by?”

Justin smiled up at him, then looked at his watch. “Yep, a couple hours ago. You’re all set. Here,” he motioned for Brian to follow him. “Let me show you the cottage.”

_Cottage?_ Brian followed as Justin led him to a small building that flanked the garage. It was a twin of the small structure where Daphne resided. Brian hadn’t noticed the second building as it wasn’t able to be seen from the house -- a hedge of azaleas and the garage masked it from sight. He raised his eyebrows, _Whatthefuck?!_

Justin opened the door and ushered Brian inside, handing him a key. “Cynthia explained that you decided to stay here for the remainder of the shoot. I figured you’d like some privacy. It’s not all that big -- but it’s as large as a small apartment. The bedroom is private and so is the bath. The kitchen has all the basics. Bob -- the last tenant -- only left a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t even cancelled the cable and internet -- there’s wireless. You’re all set. 

Justin turned to leave, but Brian grabbed hold of his arm. “Wait a minute.”

Justin looked up. “Hmmm?”

“Last night you said that if I were to spend the rest of the shoot here we could be together every night.”

Justin forced a laugh. “Brian, Brian...” he chided with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d take what I said seriously. I mean something said in the heat of passion and all that...”

“We weren’t fucking at the time,” Brian pointed out and anger tinged the edges of the words.

“Besides, I believe that I was talking about having sex every night -- not necessarily you moving into my room permanently. It’s better this way; trust me. This way if I bring someone home, or if you do, we don’t have the awkwardness thing to deal with. We can still fuck -- it’s definitely hot and it’s convenient since we’re practically living together anyway... But I’m sure it will get boring after a while. This way you have your own space, and I get to keep mine.”

He continued, “There’s a grocery store down Piedmont a little way -- you can pick up supplies there or they deliver. There’s a phone book in the bottom drawer in the kitchen near the stove.” Justin reached up, kissed Brian on the cheek and with a ‘later’, turned and headed back to the main house leaving a bemused Brian behind. _That’ll teach him. He’s not going to best me in my own home._

_Convenient?! Boring?! Did he *really* say boring? Fuck!_ Brian looked around the little house that was now his home for the remainder of the shoot. _Fuck!_

~~~~~~

Daphne sat in front of the television, a spoon in one hand and the remote in the other. She’d been surfing through the channels when a teaser on CNN caught her eye. Putting down the remote, she took a spoonful of peach yogurt and settled in to watch _Showbiz Tonight_.

She watched the interview as it progressed with interest. She wondered if Justin was watching the interview. She was just picking up her phone to call Justin when she heard Brian’s voice say, _“... reacquainted with someone... from my past. You might say he’d **Vanished** only to be discovered in another city. It’s too soon to tell, but I’m hopeful...”_

“Oh. My. God. Ohmygod... omigod, omigod, omigod...” she nearly dropped her spoon.

Across town, Cynthia was cataloging the day’s interviews. She had set the DVR to record the Hollywood news programs. In spite of that fact, she found herself watching the live airing of _Showbiz Tonight_. Sure she could have waited and watched it commercial-free, but she was up and she was anxious to see how Brian had fared. Cynthia paid close attention to the amount of screen time the program was giving Brian as they edited back and forth between him and A.J. The conversation was secondary -- it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. Of course, that was until A.J. started to focus on Brian’s personal life.

“Oh no, Brian... you didn’t... Please! tell me you didn’t...” she winced and closed her eyes as she heard Brian say _“...You might say he’d **Vanished** only to be discovered in another city. It’s too soon to tell, but I’m hopeful...”_

“Shit, you did!” Cynthia reached for her cellphone. She’d scrolled to Brian’s number and was about to hit ‘Send’ when the interview ended and the camera focused back on A.J. smiling face. Her hand faltered when she heard A.J.’s comment to the audience. “Well, folks, will the story of Brian Kinney and his lost love have a Hollywood ending? Stay tuned -- at _Showbiz Tonight_ we plan to be the ones to tell you first.” 

“Fuck!”


	12. Chapter 12

  
banner by

Brian was exiting the make-up trailer when Cynthia caught up with him the next morning.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Done?” Brian echoed. _What the hell was this about?_

“Yes... Done... You... Your little escapade with A.J. Hammer yesterday earned me a call at midnight from the west coast.”

Brian wisely didn’t say anything, merely raised his eyebrows.

“The Fox exec in charge of the series called telling me that you are not to give any more interviews. Dammit Brian! You were supposed to keep the focus on _Vanished_ , not your personal life. I thought you were trying to keep a low profile! That the whole point was not to stir up the fans so you could have some type of normalcy in your private life. You thought that little group outside your apartment was a problem? They’re a mere drop in the ocean compared to what’s coming.”

He sighed, “What’s the plan for damage control?”

“First, no more interviews. The interview scheduled for this morning has been cancelled. Do yourself -- and me -- a favor, make sure the only words out of your mouth today are the ones handed to you in the script!” Cynthia whirled and stormed off.

_Fuck!_ It wasn’t that Brian had any regrets about what he had said in the interview, but he knew ‘discretion was the better part of valor’. He’d fucked up; he’d move on. He’d be on his best behavior and it would all blow over.

~~~~~~

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Justin returned as Daphne entered the kitchen. He was busy picking the berries out of his bowl of cereal.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and looked in the fridge -- nothing interesting. She sat at the table opposite Justin. Stirring the coffee to the point where she could sip it, Daphne watched Justin eat his cereal.

Looking up, Justin eyed her. “You’re creeping me out here. What is it?”

“So, where’s Brian this morning?”

“At the studio I guess. I heard his car early this morning.”

“So he didn’t spend the night here last night?”

“Not in the house. I’ve put him up in the second cottage.”

Daphne raised her eyebrows. “You decided to let him stay here?”

Justin shrugged.

“So... I don’t suppose you saw his interview last night.”

“Since I don’t have a TV, it would be kind of hard.”

Daphne gulped and tried to smile, but it looked more like she had something unpleasant in her mouth.

“Daph?”

“Brian was on _Showbiz Tonight_ \-- on CNN -- last night. You know the show with that cute guy A.J. Hammer?”

Justin nodded.

“Well, A.J. was interviewing him and asked him about if there was anyone special in his life... back home in Pittsburgh.”

For a second, Justin felt his heart clutch. _Did Brian have someone special in his life? No, it was unlikely. Brian didn’t do relationships._ “I’m sure that type of question is routine. Does he even know Brian’s gay? He probably wouldn’t have asked if he knew.”

“Oh, he knew alright, though you could tell he thought Brian was still in the closet. Brian was very nonchalant about it all.”

“So what’d he say? Did he tell A.J. he doesn’t do boyfriends?”

“No, actually the opposite. He told A.J. that there wasn’t anyone special... in Pittsburgh...

Justin snorted.

“... but he did say that he’d recently become reacquainted with someone from his past.  
Justin, he had to be talking about you!”

“I’m not the _special someone_ in Brian’s life. We’ve fucked a few times.”

“He’s living here...”

“...on the property, not in the house.”

“Why’d you let him move in then?”

_Good question -- why did I?_ “I don’t know Daph... One minute we were fucking, the next Cynthia arrived with his clothes and my paintings...”

“Whoa! Back up! Cynthia? His clothes? Your paintings?”

Justin looked at her quizzically. “Yeah, didn’t you talk to Cynthia yesterday?”

Daphne shook her head back and forth.

“Brian sent Cynthia over with a complete set of luggage to move in.”

Daphne snickered. “Oh, I would have loved to have seen your face.”

Justin grimaced at her, than gave a laugh. “I was a bit surprised to say the least. When you spilled the beans Monday morning, I was trying to figure out what would be the best way to get rid of him. So after we fucked on Monday night, I told him that if he stayed at the house for the remainder of the shoot we could be together _every_ night. I was sure that he’d head for the hills...”

“Uh, he’s in the cottage? Seems to me your plan appears to have backfired.”

“Yeah, when Cynthia showed up I had to think fast. So I put him in the other cottage.”

“Oh my god! I wonder if he knew about the cottage before the interview?”

Justin thought about it for a second and shook his head. “I don’t think so. He seemed pretty surprised, and disappointed, when I showed him the place. What exactly did he say in the interview?”

“Not much really. He said he’d recently become reacquainted with someone from his past and that he was hopeful.”

“Hopeful for what?”

“Just hopeful. Like I said, he didn’t really say much. But, boy did A.J. latch onto him. He promised that _Showbiz Tonight_ would be the first to report about Brian and his ‘lost love’.”

“Shit! That’s all I need, CNN camped out on the sidewalk. Why couldn’t Brian just keep his fucking mouth shut?”

Daphne shrugged. “Don’t know. But it could be exciting. Do you think that you could be Brian’s ‘lost love’? Wouldn’t it be romantic -- you two reunited?”

“Maybe his lost fuck -- he doesn’t believe in love.” Justin said, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Daphne thought about what Brian had said to her the previous morning. “What about you?”

“What about me, what?”

“Do you believe in love? Do you still love Brian?”

“I never said I loved Brian.”

“Yes, you did. Oh, it may have been seven years ago, but I still remember you coming to school and telling me about how you met the man of your dreams.”

“Well, if you remember that you’ll also remember how that dream quickly turned into a nightmare.”

“But he’s here now... you spent the weekend with him...”

“Listen Daphne, I spent the weekend with him -- we fucked. He’s just as good as I remember -- maybe better. But it’s just... just a fuck. That’s all it was -- all it ever will be. While he’s here I’ll enjoy what he has to offer as a lover... but no more. When he leaves I’ll have good memories of great sex... and my heart will still be in tact. Brian Kinney doesn’t want a relationship -- Brian Kinney doesn’t do relationships. But he’s one stellar fuck, and I’m happy to take advantage of his star status.”

Daphne sighed. Brian and Justin were definitely headed in opposing directions. She’d have to talk to Cynthia.

Justin rose from the table and put his dishes in the dishwasher. He picked up his messenger bag and was heading toward the door when Daphne threw out, “Don’t forget that they’re setting up today for the location shoot.”

His closed his eyes and counted to ten. He looked at Daphne. “You’re going to handle everything -- right?”

She held up three fingers, “Scout’s honor!”

Justin snorted and headed to work.  
~~~~~

Brian was once again in the make-up trailer -- this time having his make-up removed -- when Cynthia caught up with him. She walked over to his chair and held out her hand.

“Keys.”

“Huh?”

“I need your keys... to your car. Joe is going to drive your car home tonight.”

“And why am I not driving my car back?”

“You’re driving with me in one of the production vans.”

“Again. Why?”

“It might have something to do with the small army of fans, paparazzi, and CNN camped out at the entrance to the studio.”

“CNN? Whatthefuck? Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Normally, I’m sure that they do. However, it seems A.J. Hammer has a hard-on for your story. It’s convenient that we’re shooting in Atlanta; it probably doesn’t cost them much to have a camera crew stalking you.”

Brian sighed and handed over his keys. Later, sitting on the hard, metal-ridged floor in the back of the production van he reminded himself that he had planned to play the game and let this whole thing blow over.

“You holding up okay back there?” Cynthia asked through the wire fencing that separated the driving compartment from the back of the van.

“Just peachy.” Brian snarked back.

Cynthia laughed. “Well, we should be to Justin’s in less than five minutes. Luckily, the shooting schedule is such that you’re at his home for the rest of the week and next week. You’ll be locked away behind the gates and won’t have to worry driving back and forth or facing the throngs.”

“Yeah. Great,” he responded without much enthusiasm.

Cynthia smiled and went back to concentrating on the road.

~~~~~~

Justin grimaced and tried to suppress a shudder as he picked his way through the trailers that lined Piedmont Street outside his home. _Fuck! Could today get any worse?_ He hoped Daphne had been able to keep her word. He was counting on her to ride herd over the production crew. He shook his head and felt his shoulders slump as he trudged up the driveway. He’d been watching his feet while he plodded up the drive, trying to ignore the mayhem of the production crew when he walked right into Brian. _Okay, today could get worse._

“Hey.” Brian said softly as he put out a hand to steady Justin, who wobbled a bit. His eyes scanned Justin. “You look like shit.”

“Fuck you.”

“That could be arranged. Seriously Justin, what the fuck have you been doing to yourself?” The kid looked like a light breeze would blow him over.

“Work was another for shit day.” Brian’s hands ran up and down his arms soothing his frayed nerves. He leaned into Brian’s strength. _Just for a minute._ It felt good to have human contact after everything that was going on -- work, the production crew, even Brian being here. He pulled back. Only a few more yards -- he could be in the house, shut the door to the outside world, and crawl into bed. He was exhausted.

Brian felt Justin retreat. In response, he looped his arms loosely but firmly around the younger man. He heard the heavy sigh and felt the exhale of air, like a balloon deflating in a small, slow weeze. Justin gave in and slumped against him. He pressed a kiss to the top of Justin’s head before settling his chin in the silk of his hair.

Justin accepted Brian’s comfort. He felt himself gaining strength from the warmth of the other man’s body. It felt good to be held. The shit of his day drained away. They stood like that in the driveway, while the surrounding chaos of the production crew’s work faded.

Brian broke the silence. “You look like you could use a long shower -- get rid of some tension.”

“Yeah. Join me?” Justin quietly requested.

Brian really hadn’t planned it. But he’d had a lousy day as well. A shower would feel good. “Let me grab a couple things from the cottage -- I’ll meet you.” Brian relinquished his hold on the blond and went to retrieve some clean clothes.

~~~~~~

Justin had been in the shower only a couple of minutes when Brian joined him. Unlike previous showers with the man, this time there was a lack of sexual tension. Perhaps it was the overall exhaustion and work-related stress that occupied his mind and body. Brian’s presence was calming and soothing.

Justin closed his eyes and braced his legs, as Brian plucked the net ball full of suds from his hand. He felt himself relaxing under light strokes blended with the warm spray of the shower. Strong hands swept the soap filled ball up his back and kneaded the tight muscles until they loosened and became languid.

Justin leaned toward the tile wall needing the support. The heat of the shower combined with the soapy massage had his legs feeling like jello. But before he made contact with the wall, he felt himself being gathered to Brian’s body. Sheltered in his arms, they stood together, under the warmth of the spray, until the water ran cold and forced them to move.

Leaving the shower, Brian grabbed a towel and repeated a slow massage as he dried the droplets of water from Justin’s body. By the time he’d finished, his own body was only a little damp, having air-dried in the meantime.

Justin took the towel from Brian and placed it on the rack. He extended his hand to Brian, who grasped it firmly, and led the older man to his bed.

This time there was none of the overwhelming rush to quench their sexual thirst. Rather, they allowed themselves to softly explore one another’s body at an unhurried and leisurely pace. They made love -- slow, sensuous, deeply satisfying love. When it was over, Brian once again gathered the blond into his arms and Justin felt cherished.

~~~~~~

Brian was drinking a cup of coffee in Justin’s kitchen when Cynthia stormed in and slammed a copy of _People_ magazine on the table. “I don’t know whether to be furious with you, happy for you and your career, or just give up and hand in my notice!”

He thoughtfully stirred his coffee and looked over at the magazine. There on the cover in glorious color was a picture of Brian, Justin in his arms, pressing a kiss to the younger man’s forehead. In bold print, the magazine declared “Brian’s _Vanished_ Love”.

“It’s a surprisingly clear photograph.” It was true, you could see every pore on Brian’s face; absently, he thought his skin looked good. His shoulder and head blocked a clear view of Justin’s face. He’d have to be thankful for that. With everything happening at Justin’s job, there was no way he needed any more problems than he already had.

“Is that all you can say?”

“Cynthia, you’ve been around the last few days. You know that I didn’t do this on purpose. I’ve been keeping a low profile -- staying away from the press, obeying the gag order. This had to be taken nearly a week ago. Justin was having a bad day. For Christ’s sake, _I_ was having a bad day. I wasn’t flaunting it. I was actually being nice for a change -- doesn’t seem to have gotten me anywhere.”

Cynthia pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. “Shit Brian! We had no advance warning on this one. I’m pretty sure the studio thought the request from _People_ was the same as all the other requests for interviews -- the photos make it a different matter all together. With this kind of coverage, it’s going to be damn hard to refuse interviews. We need to map out a strategy, otherwise Fox is going to run the show and push us around. We need to spin it -- make it an opportunity. If we handle this right, we can leverage it for some major advancement of your career -- ‘A’ list films, endorsement contracts, a better contract for next season if the show’s renewed. But we have to be pro-active; we have to steer this ship.”

Brian quietly studied the magazine on the table, then flipped it open to the article. While he read the story, Cynthia grabbed herself a cup of coffee and watched Brian.

The article didn’t really say much. There were two more photos of Brian and Justin -- one of Justin’s head on his shoulder as they retreated to the house. Another of Brian running his hands along Justin’s arms as they spoke. Luckily, the angle in each photo made it difficult to see Justin’s face. The article reported that neither man was available for comment. There was speculation that Justin was working on the crew of _Vanished_ , but they were unable to confirm it. Most likely, they didn’t have time to fact check beyond the bare minimum under a publication deadline. Brian knew that wouldn’t be the case by now. By now, they probably knew who Justin was right down to his social security number and what color underwear he was wearing. The rest of the story was a brief bio of Brian and his career, along with photos from the last ten years. All easily available public information. For once, the press had managed to get the information right.

“Is this out on newstands yet?”

Cynthia shook her head. “Tomorrow. But it will go live on their website tonight at midnight.”

“Do they know who Justin is?”

This time she nodded. “Yes, I got a letter with the pre-released copy of the magazine requesting an interview with the two of you.”

“Shit! He shouldn’t have to deal with this. How many more days are we shooting here?”

“Tomorrow and possibly Friday.” Cynthia bit her lip. “You should probably call Justin -- give him a heads up.”

“Yeah,” Brian rose and opened his cell phone, then thinking better of it closed the phone. He picked up the land line and looked at Cynthia. “Can I ask you to wait somewhere else in the house?”

Cynthia got up. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to go out and talk to the studio folks who are on site. Take your time. Say ‘hi’ to Justin for me.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’s going to be very happy to hear from you,” Brian responded with a small smile.

Cynthia grinned back. It felt good to have something to smile about.

~~~~~~

Brian hung up the phone with a sigh. Justin hadn’t taken the news well. He didn’t want to do interviews, he didn’t want to take photos. Justin said he wanted the press to leave him alone. He may not have said it, but Brian feared Justin wanted Brian to leave him alone too. _Fuck! Maybe he should move somewhere else... again._ Only one thing wrong with that, he didn’t want to move.

Since their shower the day the photo had been taken, Brian had been staying in the main house. Every day he moved more of his shit into the master bedroom -- socks, jeans, underwear, t-shirts. He’d moved his suits in this morning. He figured by the end of the week, he’d have everything in place. If Justin had noticed, he wasn’t saying anything.

Cynthia wandered back into the kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee.

Brian joined her. “So here’s what we’re going to do...”


	13. Chapter 13

Brian wasn’t quite sure what woke him up. He scanned the dark room and shouldered into the bed a bit more. Reaching out, he pulled Justin. The body he held in his arms was taut and Brian could feel the tension radiating from the younger man.

“Relax.”

Justin shook his head; his entire frame quivered in Brian’s arms. Brian's hand ran the length of Justin’s body in an attempt to soothe him. He lightly brushed his fingers through his golden hair. But nothing he did seemed to dissipate the rigid set of the younger man's form.

“Jesus, Justin, what the fuck is wrong?”

“Do you really think it’s going to work?” 

Brian rolled onto his back away from Justin. “It’ll work... it is working. It’ll be fine.”

Justin rolled onto his back, putting some distance between himself and Brian. “What if it doesn’t? What if Cynthia’s right and they fire you?”

“Cynthia said that?” Brian turned his head to look at Justin.

Justin returned Brian’s gaze. “I overheard her talking to Daphne. She said that the studio execs weren’t entirely happy that you had decided to take matters into your own hands. She said that they might write you out of the script... kill off your character.”

“Fuck it! They knew who I was going into all this. They had their chance, they had it their way. If I had let them continue on, it would have been worse. At least this way, if it gets fucked up I have only myself to blame.”

“But your job...”

“Fuck the job! If they write me off, they write me off. At least this way I’m steering my career -- I’m not letting the studio use me as their sacrificial lamb. The one thing good in all this is that I’ve had a steady stream of offers coming in -- Broadway even. There’s other work out there for me, even if they do kill me off.” Brian rolled Justin toward him so they were facing one another. “It’s not your problem.” Justin raised an eyebrow. Brian relented, “Okay, it’s not entirely your problem. Don’t get hung up on trying to second guess the studio. We have a plan, let’s stick to it.”

“The plan...” Justin pondered that thought. “Do you really think they’re buying it? The press... the studio... your fans?”

“Right now, they seem to be. Look, if you’re really that worried, I said I’d leave... find somewhere else to stay.”

“No!” Justin said it a bit sharper than he’d meant to, struggling up on his elbows to look at Brian’s face. “I... I don’t want you to have to go.”

Hazel eyes looked into sapphire blue ones. “I don’t want to go,” Brian replied softly with a smile. He lay down on his back once more, pulling Justin with him. He pressed a kiss into Justin’s silky hair. “Get some rest, I have a 5am makeup call and don’t need bags under my eyes.”

Justin snuggled close to Brian, resting his head on his shoulder, his arm across Brian’s chest. He let Brian’s warmth seep into him and willed himself to relax. The past two weeks played through his mind.  
...

He hadn’t really understood why Brian had sent Daphne in Cynthia’s car to pick him up from work. It wasn’t until they approached the gates to the house on Piedmont that the whole thing began to sink in. 

Over the past week, the production and film crew had garnered attention from the neighbors, but tonight’s crowd was definitely more than the curious locals. There was an obvious presence of local television camera crews with their logo-emblazoned vehicles. Photographers were definitely staking things out, and there was someone from one of the entertainment news shows doing a stand-up in front of the fence. 

Justin was thankful for the tinted windows that made it difficult for the reporters to peer into the vehicle. Despite that fact, he still slouched low in his seat as Daphne lowered her window to punch in the security code. When the gates opened, Daphne wasted no time driving through.

Somehow in all this mess, Justin’s kitchen had become the war room. It was one of a handful of rooms in the house that was off-limits to the film crew and Brian felt that he could speak freely there. There was also a real phone attached to the wall - not a portable - that could be used to make calls. Brian knew that portables and cell phones were easily compromised in situations like this one. 

Brian and Cynthia were seated at the table when Justin and Daphne arrived. They had put together a checklist of items to review with Justin and Daphne given the situation they now found themselves in. Cynthia was on the phone as she had been most of the afternoon, fielding requests for interviews. Brian had his laptop open and was identifying and prioritizing goals for what they wanted to present to the press. Daphne seemed to have a handle on what was going on, but Justin felt overwhelmed by it all.

Brian looked up from his computer and flashed Justin a smile. Justin tried to smile back but there was tension and hesitation in his eyes.

Daphne headed for the fridge. “Beer or wine?” she asked to no one in particular.

Cynthia covered the mouthpiece on her phone and said, “White wine,” before she resumed her call.

Daphne looked over to Brian who nodded.

Justin wanted to keep a clear head. “Just grab me a bottled water, please.”

When they all were settled with their drinks, Brian began. He shoved the copy of _People_ into the center of the table. “Okay, here’s the situation...” Keeping a close eye on Justin, he outlined where things were at and how they’d gotten there. He was up front about his unintentional but indisputable role in stirring up the media frenzy. He talked about how Cynthia and he planned to leverage the situation. When he finished the table was silent.

“Cynthia? Daphne? Would you mind if I had a word with Justin in private?” The two women nodded and rose.

“C’mon Cynthia,” Daphne nodded toward the door. She looked at Brian and then Justin. “We’ll be at my place. Just call us when you’re ready. We’ll order something in for dinner.” And with that they left.

Brian shifted in his chair and looked at Justin. “That,” he pointed to the copy of _People_ , “hits the newsstands tomorrow. Already there are enough of them in circulation to cause Cynthia to be on the phone most of the afternoon. Her email and voicemail boxes are overflowing. They -- the press -- have figured out that I’m living here. By now they know your name and know you own this place. They are trying to piece together the story, but in lieu of the truth, they’ll make it up. The gag order from the studio isn’t working for us here. Cynthia is right, for several reasons, we have to steer this thing ourselves. If we leave it to incompetents, we deserve what we get.”

“What’re you going to do?” Justin asked.

“They want to talk to us -- together.”

“No way!”

Brian smiled. “I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

“Brian, you’re an actor, I can understand your need to spin the publicity machine in your favor. But I’m not an actor -- I’m not anyone famous. For Christ’s sake, I’m not even your boyfriend. You’re here through a series of unfortunate circumstances.”

“I could leave.” Brian said it very quietly.

It _would_ make it all go away. _Damn it! The past week had felt like they were headed somewhere... if Brian left now..._ Justin wasn’t dumb, he knew that Brian was slowly moving more and more of his stuff into the room they were sharing. He shook his head, “You may as well stay. All your shit is here.”

Brian gave him a strange look. _Was Justin on to his little closet exchange?_ “Good. Cynthia’s setting up an interview schedule for me. Since you don’t want to join me, we should talk about what I’m to say when you come up.”

“Why do you have to say anything?”

Brian nodded his head as if considering the idea, but ultimately it didn’t work for him. “I think the past week has been a pretty good example of how well that strategy works.”

“Can’t you just say that you’re staying with a friend? That we know each other from Pittsburgh? That wouldn’t be lying.”

Brian tapped on the magazine. 

“Oh... right. So where does that leave us?”

Brian really wanted a cigarette. He pushed away from the table and stood. “Fuck it! Let them think what they want. I’ll answer honestly or not at all.” He looked Justin in the eye. “If it gets too much for you, you’ll let me know -- right?”

Justin gave a tentative smile and swallowed. “I guess so.”

Brian flipped open his phone and called Cynthia.

By the time their dinner was delivered, Brian and Cynthia had reviewed their checklist with Justin and Daphne. 

Justin’s head was spinning. How did they think of all these things? 

All calls that required confidentiality would be made from the wall phone in the kitchen -- anything on the cell phones or portable phones had the potential of being picked up by scanning devices. Cynthia had arranged for a security firm to come in and do an assessment of the property and lock down the wireless computer network that Daphne, Justin and Brian had been using. 

For the rest of the week Daphne would borrow Cynthia’s car to take Justin to and from work. Depending on how things proceeded, she might have to continue with her limousine service. Cynthia was now moving into the second cottage, and Brian was being moved into the house.

“Wait a second!” Justin interrupted. _When did I lose control over my own home?_ “What’s the reason for Cynthia moving in? She’s not being stalked by the press.”

“We need to circle the wagons. Besides, it will be easier this way. We need to confer with her if anything happens. This way she’ll be on site. We don’t have to worry about phones being monitored or email being intercepted.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, it’s just a magazine!” 

By Friday, Justin conceded defeat.  
~~~~~

“Well, it’s official. You and Brian are a couple. They’re calling you ‘Britin’!” Daphne smiled in delight at the thought as she joined Justin at the kitchen table.

Justin folded his arms on the table and laid his head down. “This is not happening.” _I should have let Brian move out when he offered_. Now it was too late. Brian had succeeded in moving all of his possessions into Justin’s bedroom and Cynthia was firmly established in the second cottage. 

He looked up at Daphne, his chin still resting on the table. “You know, a month ago I had this place all to myself. Now there are three people living with me, a part time film production in progress, entertainment news crews prowling the grounds -- and I use the term ‘news’ loosely. I’m being stalked by the fucking paprazzi. Fuck! Larry King’s people have managed to obtain my cell phone number.”

“Larry King? Really?”

Justin gave her a quelling look.

“Um, sorry?”

_Yeah, so am I._ Justin now had a lot more respect and sympathy for people in the public eye.

“You know, I bet that the folks at Larry King are calling because Brian’s supposed to be on tonight. They’re doing it live here in Atlanta. Why don’t you come over and watch it with me. I think Cynthia’s going to the studio with Brian.”

Justin shrugged. So far he’d managed to avoid the television coverage. He’d seen the magazine and tabloid coverage at the newsstand near the bus stop and in the supermarket. 

He’d taken to spending as little time out in public as possible, but he was feeling confined. So he’d stopped the Daphne shuttle service and put his foot down when it came to not doing simple tasks like going to the grocery store and dry cleaners. For the most part, he went unrecognized -- except by the photographers who stalked him. But since he did these things without Brian, they really had little interest in following him.  
~~~~~~

“...We’re talking with stars about being out -- being gay -- in the public eye.”

_Oh for Fuck’s sake! This isn’t the agreed upon topic!_ If appearing on the program hadn’t fed into his and Cynthia’s plan, Brian would have walked out then and there.

“...In Atlanta is Brian Kinney. Brian plays FBI Agent Graham Kelton on Fox’s latest mystery/thriller _Vanished_.”

“Brian, how does it feel to be a gay actor playing the role of a straight man?”

_whatthefuck?!_ Brian quickly regained his composure and formulated how best to respond to the question.

“Well, Larry, quite frankly I never thought about being a gay actor playing a straight role. I am an actor. My job is assuming the identity -- the role -- of the character I am hired to portray. I...”

Larry interrupted, “But surely being gay...”

Brian fought to keep his temper at bay. He wrestled for control of the interview, deftly steering the conversation back to his current role. “Larry, I took the role of Graham Kelton because I found him to be more than a cardboard two-dimensional character.” 

_Though the writers don’t seem to have a clue how to take Kelton’s backstory and weave it into the script._ It was one of Brian’s biggest frustrations that Kelton’s character didn’t appear to be developing as the series progressed. _Well, here goes nothing, at least this might spark something from the writers._

“Kelton is a complex man. He has demons that haunt him. He has a failed mission, he has a crisis of faith -- on the eve of his daughter’s first communion -- and he has a failed marriage. He’s struggling with his superiors. Surrounded by his failings, he doesn’t want the current case to be another failure. He can’t allow it to be a failure. He determined to turn the case around, to turn his life around.” 

_This is bullshit!_ Brian could hardly believe his eyes as he watched Larry in the monitor. The decrepit old fool was hanging on his every word. “Kelton is working this case like his life depends on it.” 

_And if that isn’t the final nail in the coffin, I don’t know what is._ The writers may very well be setting his character up for the ‘big fall’.

The red light blinking alerted Brian that they were headed to a commercial break.

“...I’m talking with Brian Kinney about his role as Agent Graham Kelton on Fox’s _Vanished_. We’ll have more after the break.”

They went to commercial and a low-level hum filled the room as the sound from the studio in LA where Larry King was cut off. Brian sat wondering what he’d be facing when they came back from break. He watched Larry in silence as a make-up person retouched his cheeks and lips. Brian felt like they should pipe in the _Jeopardy_ theme song as they counted down the four minutes of commercial break.

“If you’re just joining us, in our Atlanta studio is gay actor Brian Kinney.”

Brian fought the wince he felt.

“So Brian, a lot has been made about your personal life and your young boyfriend Justin Taylor.”

_So much for keeping a low profile._ Since it wasn’t a question, Brian didn’t deign to comment. 

The silence stretched out and Brian watched as Larry scrambled to fill it. It seemed the old man was grasping at straws, when he reached out and held up the issue of _People_ from the previous week.

“According to _People Magazine_ you seem to have found your lost love in Atlanta. In an interview with CNN’s own A.J. Hammer, you told us you were hopeful about rekindling your lost relationship, and now according to reports the two of you are living together. Tell us how you managed to be reunited after all these years apart.”

This, Brian was prepared for.

“We met again quite by accident. My assistant and Justin’s best friend were helping me out after some overly enthusiastic fans ended up in my apartment complex a few weeks ago. It happens that we were doing some location shots at a property he owns. He was kind enough to invite me to stay at the location. Since I’m only here temporarily, while we finish shooting for the season, it’s easier to stay in one place. And given the rise in fan and press attention recently, having a place to stay that is a bit more secluded than my previous apartment has afforded me privacy that I would not otherwise have.” 

He hoped that sounded dull enough. Larry looked like he might be falling asleep; Brian would swear he saw the man’s eyes droop.

“Back to Justin Taylor. Tell us just what it was that caught your attention.”

_Besides the fact that he’s got the world’s most talented tongue and a terrific ass?_ A whisper of a smile crossed Brian’s lips before he answered. “Mr. Taylor is an intelligent, articulate and multi-talented man. He is an exceptional artist.”

“He’s quite a few years younger than you, isn’t he?”

“There is a twelve year difference in our ages... but we’re both adults. It’s not like I’m old enough to be his father or anything.”

Larry’s face looked a bit mottled, and he decided to try a different course. “It has been said that you have had somewhat of a colorful and varied past when it has come to partners. Settling down with one man must be constricting.”

_You son of a bitch._ “I think we all have a time in our life when we play the field, so to speak. Along with that I think that there is some searching that goes on to find the right person to be a partner for the long haul. I’ve done my share of playing the field. Meeting Justin again has brought me full circle. This is my opportunity to discover if I’m man enough to make a commitment and stand by it. I can only hope that I’m equal to the task.” The blinking red light once again flashed the signal for commercial break. Looking at the clock in the studio, Brian saw that he had fulfilled his obligation for his twenty minutes -- and managed to do it without having to talk to any callers. 

“I’m Larry King, and we’ll be back with gay football star Drew Boyd after the break.” 

Brian smiled as the studio assistant took off his mike. He felt sorry for Boyd, but at least he had managed to get out before Larry could badger him further. He was escorted back to the Green Room and asked to wait there for a producer to debrief him. Cynthia nodded to him as he entered the room. She had her ear glued to her cell phone and was speaking in a low voice. Brian decided to grab a cup of coffee.

“Brian?! Brian Kinney!”

He knew that shriek anywhere. Brian turned and saw his friend from Pittsburgh. “Emmett...”

“Imagine running into you here! I know Debbie told me you’d be in Atlanta, but Hotlanta’s a big town. What are you doing here? Wait! Don’t tell me... Larry King is going to interview you too!” Emmett’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I saw that little article in _People_. Really Brian, it’s so much easier to let their camera crew come and take the photos. Those telescopic lenses make for the most wretchedly grainy and unflattering shots.” He rushed ahead. “Is it true? Have you really found true love? Who is this Justin Taylor? He does seem to have the most darling bubble butt, if that picture is anything to go by.” Emmett took a breath

Brian laughed and lowered his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I missed you, Emmett. What the fuck are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m here being supportive. You remember my little affair of the heart with Drew Boyd? The quarterback? Well, after Drew went out and sowed his wild oats he came home to me! We’ve been together now for nearly three years. And he’s now a coach for the Atlanta Falcons. So we spend our winters here in the south and our spring and summer up north in Pittsburgh. It’s really quite a nice little arrangement. We get the best seasons in both places. I’ve expanded my party and event planning business to both locations to keep myself busy.” As an afterthought he added, “You know, surprisingly, being a kept man isn’t all that great. So while Drew is off with football or endorsements, I’m keeping myself busy and being productive. Let me tell you honey, these southern belles will give even the most demanding of queens a run for their money -- talk about drama!” 

Brian sipped from his coffee cup and chuckled.

“Anyway, do tell me all about this young man in your life? When can I meet him?”

Brian glanced at Cynthia to help him out. She shook her head and focused on her phone call. _Thanks, Cynthia, some personal assistant you are._ “Uh, Justin’s not quite up to meeting folks at the moment. The onslaught of the press has him a bit shy.”

“I’m not some nosey reporter, Brian. I’m family! Of course, you’ll introduce us. I won’t take no for an answer.” Emmett opened the oversized bag that was hanging from his shoulder. Digging through it he pulled out a Daytimer. “Let’s see now, Thursday looks good. Okay, we’ll do dinner Thursday -- say 8 pm? A civilized hour. Do you want to meet at a restaurant or do you want to come to our apartment?”

Brian shook his head. “I don’t know what Justin’s schedule is like -- he may not be free.”

“Well, you have a cell phone, don’t you? Use it. You can call him right now and check.”

Cynthia wasn’t going to help him here. _Where the fuck is the producer who had to talk to me?_ Brian could see that he’d have no peace if he didn’t make the call. Resigned, he reached for his cell phone and moved to the opposite side of the room.

“Brian?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“I watched with Daphne -- it wasn’t so bad.”

“No, I think it went pretty well, considering...”

“Are you and Cynthia coming ho... back soon?”

“I have to wait to talk to someone from the studio here. They said it’d be about ten minutes -- it’s been twenty and I haven’t seen anyone... at least no one from the studio.”

“They’re interviewing Drew Boyd now -- he’s kind of hot.”

Brian smiled. “Should I be worried?”

“No, I was just making conversation.”

“Look, I ran into someone I knew from Pittsburgh here at the studio. He wants to have dinner with us on Thursday. I told him you might be busy...”

“I’m free!”

“Justin, you don’t have to...”

“No, really -- I want to. I’d like to meet your friends. I’m going a bit stir-crazy here -- I miss my personal freedom. Besides, I’d like to meet your friend.”

“Well, Emmett asked if we wanted to go to a restaurant or his apartment. If we go to a restaurant, there’ll be paparazzi and fans to deal with.”

“We could go to his apartment. Ask him what we should bring.”

Brian sighed. Justin sounded excited to get out of the house. He’d rather they stay behind the safety of the fence in the little fortress that was Justin’s house. 

“Where’s his apartment?” Justin interrupted Brian’s thoughts.

“I’m not sure -- I’ll find out.” A woman with a CNN ID badge entered the room and looked at Brian. “Look, I’ve got to go, the person I’m supposed to talk to just arrived.”

“Later!”

“Yeah, later.” Brian folded his phone and turned his attention to the production assistant. After being given a five minute “debriefing” of nothing more than a review of what was in the release that he’d signed earlier, Brian was free to go. Cynthia caught his signal, wrapped up her call and headed out to the parking deck. Brian was moving to the door when Emmett laid a hand on his shoulder. He looked startled by the touch.

“Dinner? Thursday?” Emmett asked.

“Yeah. Justin said he’s free.” Brian pulled a card from his pocket, turned it over and wrote his cell number on the back. “You can reach me at this number -- my cell; my e-mail’s on the front of the card. Email me your address. Let me know what you want us to bring.”

“Why, you don’t need to bring a thing other than your fine self and that fine boyfriend of yours!”

“Fine; we’ll bring some wine or something. Look, I’m done here so I’m going to get going.”

“See you Thursday!” Emmett responded cheerfully.

“Yeah, Thursday.”


	14. Chapter 14

“I’m dead,” Brian sighed dramatically as he flopped onto the futon in Justin’s studio.

Justin looked up from his canvas, paintbrush in hand. He frowned.

“We’re supposed to have dinner with Emmett and Drew tonight. I was kind of looking forward to it. I guess I can call and tell them you’re too tired. Or-rrr...maybe you can take a nap?”

Brian opened his eyes and looked over at Justin. “Not tired... dead. Actually, it’s Graham Kelton whose dead.” Brian watched Justin as the news sunk in. “They killed him off today.”

Justin lay down his paintbrush and crossed to the futon, sitting down next to Brian’s reclined body. He lightly threaded his fingers though Brian’s chestnut hair. “I’m sorry.”

Brian grinned. “Sorry’s bullshit.”

“Still...”

“It was bound to happen, the character and the show were going nowhere. If it hadn’t been for the publicity surrounding us, they probably would have yanked it off the air in it’s third week.” 

Brian sat up and swiveled so that he and Justin sat side by side. He nudged the younger man’s shoulder.

Justin looked into Brian’s eyes and gave a tentative smile. “I guess this means no more film crews.”

“Nope.”

“No more paparazzi?” he asked hopefully.

Brian rolled his lips and shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe, maybe not.”

“Can we still go to dinner at Emmett and Drew’s?” 

Brian looked into Justin’s earnest face. “No reason not to.”

Justin smiled, then bit his lip. “What are you going to do?”

Brian leaned back on his elbows. “Well, I was thinking that I might try something different.”

“Different?”

“I’ve had a lot of offers come in from all over the country. I have some opportunities that weren’t there before. Regional Theatre, Off-broadway, even some Broadway.”

Justin gulped, “New York?” _He’s leaving? But we just found each other again..._

Brian sat up next to Justin. He nudged his shoulder into Justin’s. “I was thinking that I might like to explore the stage opportunities that have come my way.”

“So you’ll be leaving.” Justin tried unsuccessfully to hide he disappointment in his voice.

“Well, the problem with New York is that it is really expensive.”

“I guess,” Justin replied miserably.

“I mean if I get any of the plays I’ve been offered, I’d have to get a place in New York.”

Justin’s brow wrinkled, “Well, yeah, I mean you’ll have to live somewhere.”

“I was thinking that it might be good to have a roommate.”

_Why is Brian telling me this? What the fuck does it matter who he lives with?_

“You know,” Brian continued, “New York has lots of Museums...”

“Uh-huh.”

“And art galleries...”

“Uh-huh.”

“And opportunities for art directors - advertising, publishing, television, music, broadway...”

“Huh?”

“Well, it would be nice to have someone to share it all with...”

Justin looked into Brian’s hazel eyes... _Was Brian saying what he thought he was saying?_ He hesitated, then asked, “Are you...? do you want me...?”

“Fuck, yeah! You hate your job...”

“Sure... but New York?”

“We’ve been living together...”

“But, that was...” Justin took a deep breath, “...all an... act?”

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek, “Was it?”

The smile began slowly, but grew until it lit up Justin’s face.

“What do you say?” For a split second, Brian was worried that Justin might refuse him.

“Really?” 

“Really.”

Justin’s smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. “I say yes!” He launched himself at Brian, tumbling them both over on the futon couch. Justin littered Brian’s face with kisses as he squirmed on top of the Brian’s toned body.

Brian deftly flipped Justin over aligning himself on top of the younger man. He leaned in to take possession of Justin’s full lips.

“Wait!”

Without bothering to hide his exasperation, Brian growled, “What?”

“What about the house?”

Brian sighed and leaned his head so their foreheads touched. “What about it?”

“Well, it will be empty...”

“Daphne will be here, we’ll visit...”

“We will?”

“There’s always regional theatre, CNN and the Georgia Film Commission...”

“But what about my job in New York?”

“What job?”

“When I get one...”

Brian rolled off Justin to his side. “Are you _trying_ to be difficult here? What if the sky falls tomorrow?” He turned so he faced Justin. “There will always be another job. What about becoming an artist? Painting full-time?

“Justin, we can live in Georgia, or New York, or LA, or the fucking Pitts... There will always be an opportunity.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course, I am.” Brian smirked.

“As long as we’re together.”

Brian gave a short nod. At another time, in another place, Brian Kinney might have flinched at that. But he meant what he’d said all those week’s ago in that interview with A.J. Hammer. He’d found something he’d thought he’d lost, and he wasn’t going to lose it again without a fight.

“Now that that’s settled, do we have time to fuck before dinner with Emmett and Drew?”

Justin smiled. “I think we can be fashionably late, don’t you?”

Brian leaned in to capture Justin’s mouth. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry for the abrupt end, but that's what happened to the series and it seemed it was a good place to stop. I'll be archiving more fics in he coming weeks. Also, if you like what's been written here I invite you to read othere works by me. A lot are one-offs. The next major archiving I'll be doing is Commuter Flight Stories - the fic that got me into writing fan fic. So go forth... read... enjoy... and comment please.


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